


Guilty Eyes

by SomewhereFlying



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-11-14 21:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 47,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11216559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: Despite everything, Akira Kurusu cannot keep himself from meeting with Goro Akechi, even if he has to do it behind the Thieves' backs. On paper, their fates are destined to oppose each other... but Akira has no intention of betraying his team OR of abandoning Akechi. When you come to love so many people, you grow compelled tofightfor them, despite all odds.A look at the events of the game if only Akira had reached out to Akechi, just a bit more, in spite of the Phantom Thieves.





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> You know it, you love it, it's another fix-it fic to give Akechi some redemption and to indulge my poor shipper's heart! It's not the most original idea in the world, but I hope you enjoy my interpretation nonetheless. 
> 
> **Spoilers** for the 7th dungeon, through November 21st, and **implied spoilers** for endgame content. Explicit rating will apply for later chapters.

“Ugh, that guy again,” Ryuji groaned. “Hey Boss, can we change the channel?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be studying? Stop watching the TV,” Sojiro chastised Ryuji from across the room. Ryuji’s face fell, and Akira lowered his head to his textbook so Ryuji couldn’t see his smirk.

It was a muggy, rainy Sunday, and Sojiro was reluctantly allowing Akira and the others to take refuge inside Leblanc. They were half-heartedly pretending to study for finals, but the humidity made Akira lazy and no one else had the drive to keep the group on-task. So instead Akira was staring out into space, idly doodling on a piece of scrap paper, while beside him Ryuji was glaring at the TV, arms crossed and legs splayed out into the aisle.

Across the table, Ann was lounging sideways in her booth seat, one leg over the other, with a math book propped up in her lap. Morgana was half asleep on top of a backpack down below the table – Boss forbade him from sitting on the tables when the café was open. “C’mon Ryuji,” Ann said, without bothering to look up from her book, “It’s not even that loud. Just tune it out.”

“Well it’s not like I can help it, it’s right in fronta me!” Ryuji continued, gesturing across the room. Then, hit with a sudden flash of inspiration, he sprung to his feet and said, “Hey Mona, swap places with me so I don’t gotta look at the TV.”

Before Morgana had a chance to react, Ryuji scooped up the backpack – Mona and all – and plopped it down on the booth seat beside Akira.

“H-hey you can’t just pick someone up without their permission!” Morgana yelped.

Ryuji seemed largely unconcerned. “Anyway,” he continued, settling himself in his new seat beside Ann, “I just can’t believe he’s still treatin’ us like criminals, even after Kaneshiro turned himself in and everything.”

“Actually, I kinda respect him a little more now,” Ann said. Before anyone could even question her, she continued: “Y’know, since most other Phantom Thieves detractors totally flipped their opinion after Kaneshiro’s confession. So the fact that he’s still sticking to his guns is kinda, I don’t know… admirable?”

Ryuji huffed in disagreement, but Akira nodded. The sudden, positive change in the Thieves’ popularity was surprising, to say the least. People who hadn’t even acknowledged the Phantom Thieves were suddenly coming out of the woodwork to praise them for Kaneshiro’s confession. Akira thought that may have had something to do with it – Kaneshiro. It was a lot harder to condemn the Thieves for targeting a mob boss than for targeting a small-town celebrity or an aging artist.

Yet, Goro Akechi continued to do just that. Well, not that he condemned the Thieves for targeting Kaneshiro per se, but he continued to insist they were vigilantes who were breaking the law. It was not making him a popular person. But Akechi spoke with such conviction that Akira couldn’t help but admire him.

In that regard, Akira liked to watch Akechi on TV. He was clearly reserved, perhaps even shy, considering how carefully he conducted himself while on air. He looked different in person; on screen, he was perfectly still, professional, and unthreatening – “charming,” as the hosts would call him. His jacket was perfectly crisp, his tie was straight, he was perfectly manicured in every way. But at the same time, he seemed almost lifeless, like a doll, something to be put on display.

It reminded Akira of their meeting at the train station yesterday, how Akechi’s hair had been fluffed by the wind, how his cheeks were slightly flushed from the heat, how he tried to stifle his grin when Akira said something that amused him. Back on screen, Akechi was smiling non-stop, but the joy didn’t seem to quite reach his eyes. He was just doing his job, and it just happened that his job involved seeming pleasantly relatable. He looked so much more alive in person…

“Akira?”

Ann’s voice broke him out of his reverie. “Hmm?”

Ann frowned. “You were staring at the TV. Did something bother you?”

Akira paused, glancing back at the TV. “I was thinking about what it would be like to be interviewed,” he said after a moment. This was, at least, not a complete lie.

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji said, twisting his head around to get another glance at the TV. He had a big, toothy grin on his face. “It sucks we gotta keep our identities secret. I’d love to go on TV and really shut those guys up.”

“I’ve been interviewed a couple of times,” Ann said. “For modeling, you know. The producers always have some idea about what they want you to say before they even meet you. It almost doesn’t matter what you actually think. It’s just another article to them.”

“Lady Ann is right,” Morgana piped up from beside Akira. “Even if we were able to give an interview as the Phantom Thieves, if we tried to say something they didn’t like, they wouldn’t even air the interview.”

“Oh yeah? Huh.” Ryuji frowned. He was fiddling with a pencil, twisting it between his fingers. “That’s such bull, then,” he sighed, eventually tossing his pencil back down on the table. “I dunno. I just want people to respect us, y’know? I want people to appreciate us.”

“I feel the same way…” Ann said, and although she trailed off, it was clear something was weighing on her mind. She looked from Ryuji to Akira and then asked, “But I kinda feel like I shouldn’t. You know?”

“Huh? Why not?” Ryuji asked. Akira nodded at Ryuji and looked curiously at Ann.

“Well, I mean…” Ann waved her hand, trying to find the words. “We’re trying to reform society, right? So should we really be doing it for reasons like praise? That’s… a little selfish right?”

The group fell silent for a moment.

“Eh, whatever,” Ryuji said at last, shrugging. “There’s nothin’ wrong with wantin’ hard work to be acknowledged. It’s not like we’re _just_ doin’ this to make ourselves feel good. As long as we don’t compromise on the important stuff, who cares if we’re doin’ it for the glory, too?”

Morgana appeared from under the table, propping his front paws up on the table. “Wow Ryuji, that was actually pretty insightful! I’m impressed,” he said.

Ryuji’s face contorted. “Whatdaya mean “actually”?! I have plenty of insight!”

Morgana stuck his tongue out at Ryuji, and Ann laughed, her worried expression gone. “I guess you’re right. I feel good about everything we’ve done so far. So I guess it’s cool if I’m having a good time too, right?”

Akira smiled at Ann. She wasn’t wrong, of course, but there was a difference between being a part of a group and being the leader. A leader didn’t have a choice; a leader needed to be selfless. After all, the group followed his orders. Any strategic errors, any lapses in judgment, any bad decisions would all fall on Akira’s shoulders. All in all, Akira wasn’t really in the position to be putting anyone’s needs before the team’s – least of all, his own.

And yet…

When he got down to it, wanting to befriend the person investigating the Phantom Thieves was pretty selfish. Or, if not selfish, it was definitely NOT in the best interest of the group. A real leader wouldn’t risk befriending a potential enemy.

_‘A real leader…’_

Being a wildcard was great, but Akira had wondered more than once if it really qualified him to lead his friends. Ever since he awoke Arsene – and then Pixie, and Bicorn, and it became obvious that his power wasn’t quite the same as his comrades’ – Akira had felt oddly restrained. There was never any question that he would lead the Thieves, even though Morgana knew more about the Metaverse, even though Makoto had experience leading as Student Council President…

What qualified anyone to be a leader, anyway?

The interview was over, and the TV had switched back to commercials for the time being. While Akira was lost in his thoughts, Ryuji and Ann seemed to have moved on to another topic. He tuned back into their conversation and tried to put his worries out of his mind. Qualified or not, his friends respected his judgment. For now, that was enough.

 

* * *

 

Despite Shibuya’s impressive size and population, Akira felt like he ran into Akechi with some regularity. At first, their meetings were transient and fleeting – waiting for the train, or walking opposite directions in the Underground Mall – but as summer progressed, so too did the frequency of their encounters. Akira was almost tempted to call it fate, especially since he had a strong feeling that Akechi had a persona, too. After Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, and Makoto, Akira was getting pretty good at identifying people with that potential, and Akechi absolutely had that air about him.

Akira had contemplated sharing his theory with Morgana and the others more than once. In the end, however, he wondered if he wasn’t just blowing things out of proportion. Was it so surprising that there was someone else in Shibuya with a persona? Who knew how many people had visited that crazy blue room, anyway? Or perhaps Akechi had simply been to the Metaverse at some point; it didn’t even have to have been on purpose. There were dozens of explanations. The fact that Akechi could apparently hear Morgana speak didn’t really strike Akira as something to be worried about.

Mentally, Akira laughed. What a strange thought, to think it wasn’t a big deal that someone could hear a talking cat.

“Oh, good morning, Kurusu-kun.”

Akira was jolted back to reality when the object of his daydream appeared before him. If some fate was indeed bringing them together, it seemed to take great joy in catching Akira by surprise.

“G’morning,” Akira replied, standing up a little straighter.

Akechi pushed a tuft of hair behind his ear. He looked quite put-together, despite the heat. “Early morning?” he asked.

“More like a late night,” Akira replied. He decided against letting Akechi know that he had accidentally stayed up until 2:00am watching The X Folders with Morgana. He was trying to get Akechi to like him, after all, not think he was a massive nerd… not that it would be an inappropriate assumption to make.

Akechi gave him a small, sympathetic smile, but then the conversation lapsed, and Akechi turned his attention to the rails. No trains had arrived yet, and so Akechi had no reason to leave, but still Akira felt compelled to restart the conversation – to keep Akechi’s attention.

“You’re different on TV,” Akira blurted out. Akechi jumped a tiny bit – he must not have expected Akira to say anything else. It made Akira feel a bit stupid, but thankfully when Akechi turned around, he seemed to be considering Akira’s comment seriously.

“Hah… I suppose I am,” Akechi said, smiling. Akira noted it was his TV smile. “Well, it is a very manufactured environment. You saw it when you were visiting the station, did you not?”

Akira tried to recall the parts of his class trip that didn’t involve Akechi’s face and voice. This was not an easy task, for more than one reason. “I remember a lot of… yelling,” he said slowly.

This earned him a laugh from the detective. “Well, that’s not an inaccurate impression,” Akechi said. His laughter faded, and he continued on, “It is a bit stressful, I admit. I’m glad to have a platform to share my opinions, of course, but… at times, I feel quite overwhelmed by it all.” Akechi rubbed his right temple with his hand.

“Really?” Akira asked. Akechi wasn’t particularly forthcoming about his feelings; Akira felt like he had just been granted a rare glimpse into Akechi’s mind.

“Ah, is it that surprising?” Akechi asked.

Akira didn’t exactly know where he was going with this. “You just always seem… composed,” he said finally.

“Really? I’d say the same about you,” Akechi said. He tapped a gloved finger against his chin, narrowed his eyes a bit, and smiled. “I wonder what it would take to make you flustered?”

Akira felt a little flutter in his stomach. Akechi was watching him with bright, sharp eyes – a detective’s eyes, Akira figured, but there was more to it than that. He got the distinct feeling that Akechi was teasing him, and he didn’t know exactly what to do with that information.

Before his brain could finish processing Akechi’s statement, his train arrived, a rush of air and noise. “…That’s mine,” Akira said faintly.

The mysterious look on Akechi’s face vanished, and he smiled pleasantly again. “Then you should get going,” he said, stepping aside and clearing Akira’s path to the turnstiles.

Akira hesitated for a minute. “I’ll… see you around?” he asked Akechi, lifting his voice a bit.

Akechi tilted his head up curiously before he smiled and said, “I’m certain you will.”

 

* * *

 

In the quiet moments when Akira was left alone with his thoughts, his mind would wander back to Akechi. Akira was starting to suspect that, despite his best intentions, he wasn’t actually interested in _befriending_ the detective after all. That seemed a little too platonic a term for what Akira was feeling now.

_‘I wonder what it would take to make you flustered?’_

Not much, apparently. A few clever words and a smile from a cute brown-haired boy were enough to turn Akira’s mind to fuzzy mush. Akira smiled wryly. He was almost embarrassed with himself, with how smitten he’d become in such a short period of time. How long had it been since he’d met Akechi? A month, maybe? But even Akechi had admitted he felt a connection to Akira…

“Akira-kun! Could you help the next customer, please?”

Akira snapped his head to attention. That’s right, he was working at Rafflesia that evening. He had been in the middle of trimming stems, but now Hanasaki was standing in front of an elderly woman that Akira recognized as a regular. She was fond of gossiping and so serving her could drag on for quite a while. Akira gave Hanasaki a sympathetic smile and turned to face the customer.

He put on his best customer service smile and said, “Hello, what can I… oh?”

Akira was quite surprised to find himself face to face with Goro Akechi. There it was, that connection again. Maybe fate was trying to tell Akira to stop daydreaming so often.

“Kurusu-kun,” Akechi said, smiling his default smile. “This is unexpected.”

Akira was thinking the exact same thing. He ran a hand through his hair and gave a little shrug. “Surprised?” he asked.

“Somewhat.” Akechi’s eyes flicked down. “The apron suits you.”

Akira blinked. “So I’ve been told?” Indeed, it wasn’t the first time someone had said that, but it was the first time he felt his face get hot as a result. “A-anyway, what can I do for you?” Akira asked. He desperately willed his brain to switch back to employee mode. If he got flustered now, Hanasaki would chew him out for sure, and being chewed out by someone kind like her was worse than anything Sojiro could dish out.

“Ah, I’m here to order a bouquet.”

Sadly, the part of Akira’s brain that told him to act like a responsible employee was momentarily shorted out when presented with a perfect opportunity to tease Akechi. “Going to confess your love, Akechi-kun?” Akira asked, a playful smirk crossing his face.

To his delight, Akechi’s eyes widened and he gave a small, surprised gasp. “N-no, I…” Akechi’s cheeks were growing pink. He laughed nervously, shaking his head. “No, nothing like that. Rather…” His expression shifted down. “An employee of the police department passed away recently. The funeral is tomorrow.”

Whoops. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked,” Akira said.

“No, it’s okay,” Akechi said. He seemed to have recovered from Akira’s unexpected flirtation now, and his face returned to a pleasantly neutral expression. “He was not a close acquaintance of mine; I was merely the one tasked with purchasing the bouquet.”

Akira nodded, and motioned for Akechi to step into the shop. “So, you’re looking for something to express condolences?”

Akechi followed Akira, trailing him by a few feet. “Yes, I believe that would be just fine.”

Akira quietly contemplated the request, and then began to sift through the myriad flowers in the back of Rafflesia. He could distinctly feel Akechi watching him. Well, he was a detective after all; he must have to watch people all the time. Probably best not to think too much into it, Akira decided.

“Well, white chrysanthemums are traditional for funerals – to represent grief, or lamentation. So those will be our base,” Akira said. He was used to musing out loud at work – usually to Morgana – but today he raised his voice a touch so that Akechi could hear him, too. “I’d like to include Rainbow Sage, to encourage a happy future, but would that be appropriate for this situation…?”

Akira lapsed into silence, pondering his options. For a few minutes he worked in silence, until at last he gathered up the chosen flowers into a loose bundle and held it out at arms’ length, trying to assess the bouquet as a whole. Satisfied, he wrapped the bouquet in clear plastic and turned back to Akechi, who was waiting patiently, leaning against the cashier’s counter.

“Incredible,” Akechi said warmly. “You’re quite skilled at this. I have to say, I’m impressed.”

Akira felt a swell of pride at the compliment.

“Ah, sir!” That was Hanasaki; she had finally eluded her previous customer. “I can help you from here,” she said to Akechi. Akira passed the bouquet off to Hanasaki and stood to the side. He didn’t want to return to his work, though, not just yet.

“I hope the bouquet is to your liking!” Hanasaki chirped, giving a quick and bouncy bow.

“It’s perfect,” Akechi replied with a smile. “I’m most grateful.” Hanasaki clasped her hands together, clearly delighted.

Akechi turned to Akira, and gave him a small, quick bow. “Thank you,” he said. He hesitated for a moment, and then he added, “Should I ever need to confess my love, I’ll be sure to come to you… Akira-kun.”

This time, it was Akira’s turn to be surprised. This was an Akechi he hadn’t seen before, and suspected he would never see on TV; Akechi with a sly smile, his eyes partly hidden behind his bangs, a secret hint of _something_ hiding in his voice. Akira felt a lump in his throat. He opened his mouth to reply, but he had nothing witty to say. Instead, he opted for a smile and a nod.

In seconds, the new Akechi disappeared and he was back to his usual TV-ready self. “I’ll see you, then,” he said, and turned to leave, bouquet in hand.

 

* * *

 

The rest of his shift passed by in a blur. Akira was working on auto-pilot, busying himself with the flowers as much as possible, though he barely noticed what he was doing. As the end of his shift drew close, Hanasaki stopped him for a moment.

“That young man you were serving earlier – that was the detective, Akechi-kun, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Oh, uh… yes.” Akira said. For a tense moment he wondered if Hanasaki was going to chastise him, if she had noticed his change in attitude, or his dazed expression.

“You did a great job! He seemed really pleased when he left.” Hanasaki was smiling brightly. “I’m so glad we were able to help someone so well-known like him. Here, I’ve given you a little bonus tonight. Great work!”

Akira smiled weakly, and accepted his paycheck with a bow.

Walking home, Akira replayed their conversation in his head. Akechi _had_ been flirting with him, right? He felt sure he wasn’t imagining things. Akira had to admit to himself that he meant his teasing to seem a little flirtatious, but had Akechi picked up on that? And if he had, and he was knowingly playing along, then…

Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s bag. “I wonder if Akechi was telling the truth,” he said. Akira tensed up, and then Morgana added, “About the police officer who died.”

“Ah,” Akira said. His voice was dry and rough. “Right, that.”

“Did you forget already?” Morgana chided, tapping his paws against Akira’s shoulders. “What would you do without me, honestly?”

Akira laughed. Actually, he didn’t want to think about it. If Morgana hadn’t been there, watching dutifully from the Rafflesia window… “Something stupid, I’m sure,” he said, and Morgana hummed in agreement.


	2. August

August arrived like a furnace, sudden and blisteringly hot. Futaba’s Palace had been, ironically, a relief from the real world, as her pyramid was cool and dark, but it was nearly impossible to escape the heat now that the Thieves had stolen her heart. Not even Mementos was safe – the air inside the subway tunnels was hot and stale, and the whole place smelled even more strongly of… _something,_ which no one wanted to spend time trying to identify.

Akira’s phone was uncharacteristically silent; no one could bring themselves to do anything other than languish in their rooms today. Besides, all they could do now was wait and hope Futaba would recover before Medjed launched their attack, but that was nearly two weeks away and the waiting, coupled with the heat, was unbearable.

Even Morgana was gone today, taking refuge in Futaba’s blessedly air-conditioned room. Akira was envious. A cat could get away with hanging out in the same room as a mostly-unconscious Futaba, but there was no way it wouldn’t be creepy if Akira did the same. So instead Akira was sitting on his futon, his arms draped out of his open window, desperately hoping a stray gust of wind would come by and offer him some relief. The air was heavy and humid, and against a background of ceaseless cicada cries, it was enough to put Akira into a trance.

At least school was closed during August.

Eventually, the sun had moved in such a way that Akira’s window was no longer in the shade, and rather than stay put and fry, he dragged himself downstairs. Now that it was getting later, maybe he could talk a walk to somewhere more air-conditioned.

There were a few customers down in Leblanc, mostly older folks from around Yongen-Jaya who were looking for a relatively cool place to lounge. A familiar face was sitting at the counter, however. Between finals and exploring Futaba’s Palace, Akira hadn’t been out and about in Shibuya much lately, so to see Akechi suddenly sitting in Leblanc was surprising, to say the least.

Akira briefly weighed his options. Akechi looked busy, so maybe it was best to leave him alone. On the other hand, he would get to talk to Akechi. Well, a little interruption couldn’t hurt, right? That was the excuse Akira came up with as he was walking to the counter, anyway. His steps were so soft that Akechi didn’t even move when Akira came up behind him, not until he had pulled out a bar stool and sat down. “Fancy meeting you here.” Akira said.

“Ah… Kurusu?” Akechi looked surprised to see him. He glanced at Leblanc’s entrance, then back to Akira. “Did you… I didn’t hear the door. Have you been here the whole time?”

“I live upstairs,” Akira said, gesturing vaguely towards the stairs.

“Here? Ha, what a coincidence.” Akechi smiled halfheartedly. “My colleague recommended Leblanc to me some time ago, and I’ve only just had the chance to visit.”

“Huh. You two know each other?” Sojiro asked. He had meandered over to the counter when Akira came downstairs, idly smoking a cigarette, and now eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Yes, although it’s been a while,” Akechi said. “Have you been well, Kurusu-kun?” 

Akira nodded. “I was busy with finals, and then…” he wracked his brain for an appropriate way to explain his last two weeks away, “I was working on a project. Finished now, though.”

“Ah, so you’re on break now? That’s good,” Akechi said. His eyes drooped a tiny bit, and Akira noticed that Akechi looked more worn out than usual. Even though it was summer, his skin seemed washed out and pale.

“Long day?” Akira guessed.

“To say the least,” Akechi’s gaze shifted back to the counter in front of him. There were several neat piles of paper arranged around Akechi’s coffee cup. Ah, that’s right, Akira thought, Akechi still had to work over the summer. “A long month might be the better way to put it,” Akechi added.

“You need a break,” Akira commented.

Akechi shrugged. “Perhaps. But I’ve too much still to do.”

Akira frowned. Akechi’s response made him sound indifferent, but his body language was telling a very different story. “One day off won’t kill you,” Akira said. When Akechi didn’t answer, Akira gently placed a hand on his shoulder – Akechi flinched a little at the unexpected contact. “Hang out with me,” Akira offered.

Akechi looked away for a moment, staring at his work, like he needed its permission to take a break. “What did you have in mind?” He asked.

“It’s your break. What do you want to do?”

Akechi laughed without humor. “I want to get as far away from Shibuya as possible,” he said dryly. Akira regarded him for a long moment before he said anything.

“I have an idea.”

“I was just being…” Akechi began, but he stopped short when he saw the earnest look on Akira’s face. “…I have to admit I’m curious as to what you have in mind,” he said at last, and Akira’s heart soared. “Very well. Lead the way.”  


* * *

  
Ten minutes later, Akira and Akechi were on a train to Asakusa, although Akira didn’t tell Akechi exactly what he had in mind – he even bought both of the train tickets, just to keep Akechi in the dark a little longer.

“The ride’s going to be a little long. I’m sorry,” Akira said. Luckily, they had managed to snag an open pair of seats right away, as the previous occupants departed the train at Yongen-Jaya. Being able to sit would make the ride a lot more enjoyable.

“It’s okay,” Akechi said. “I find long train rides can be quite soothing, if you aren’t in a hurry.”

“Mor—ah, my friend always pesters me to use my train rides efficiently,” Akira said.

“Oh?” Akechi said. “What exactly does an efficient train ride entail?”

“Reading, mostly.”

“Ah, I can relate. I often use my spare time to review my notes,” he said, and looked down at his empty lap. “Though, even if I had them, I wouldn’t do that since I have company.”

Akira had persuaded Akechi to leave his briefcase with Sojiro – ‘safe and sound behind the counter at Leblanc, right with the cash register,’ as Sojiro had put it – so Akechi’s hands weren’t occupied, a rare sight. He didn’t seem to know what to do with them, first folding them in his lap, then resting them on the train seat, and then back to his lap.

It was almost funny how easily Akechi could be thrown out of his element by something as small as taking away an item he was used to having. Though his face remained pleasantly neutral, his restless hands were proof that he was missing something and didn’t quite know what to do without it. Not to mention that it was summertime, so his usual leather gloves were gone, too.

“Kurusu-kun?”

Akira snapped his eyes up away from Akechi’s lap. Damn, he’d been caught. Akechi was looking at him, his head tilted just a bit to the side. He didn’t seem unhappy, just perplexed.

Akira let out a long breath. “Just zoning out,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry. Bad habit.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Akechi smiled his half-smile again. “Even while you’re walking. It’s quite impressive you’re able to navigate crowds.”

Akira blinked. Now, when exactly had Akechi had the chance to watch Akira, especially without Akira noticing? And he had watched him closely enough to notice how Akira looked when he was spacing out…

“Ah, I didn’t mean it as an insult,” Akechi said, waving his hand as if to brush his earlier comment away. “You just strike me as a very thoughtful person, that’s all.”

Akira leaned back in his seat. “I wonder if you could convince Boss to start calling me thoughtful instead of air-headed, then,” he quipped, and that made Akechi laugh, dispelling the weird tension that Akira had felt growing between them.

They passed the rest of the trip making idle conversation, and when they arrived at Asakusa, the sun was just beginning to set. Akira continued to lead the way down several main streets, until Sky Tower was looming directly overhead. He stopped for a moment, looking up at the building.

“Sky Tower?” Akechi asked, following Akira’s gaze.

Akira nodded. “It was the farthest place I could think of.” He paused. “It’s the only way to get above Shibuya.”

“That…” Akechi stared at him. “I would never have thought of that.” He shook his head, but Akira could see a smile on his face. “Well, shall we?”

Since it was evening, Sky Tower wasn’t particularly crowded. They were easily able to reach the observation deck and find a nice spot right in front of the window. Akira leaned against the guard rail, taking in the view. Tokyo spread out before them, dipped in orange sunlight and deep, dark shadows that threw the whole landscape into sharp contrast. Near the base of the tower, they could still see tiny cars whirring down the road and sidewalks dotted with speck-sized humans. As the sky got darker, lights started to flicker on, lighting up an endless grid of buildings that stretched all the way to the horizon.

For a while, they enjoyed the sights silently, until Akira was interrupted by the distinct feeling that someone was staring at him. He quickly glanced to his left, then his right, and was surprised to find that he was correct: Someone was watching him, and it was Akechi.

There was a very short moment when Akira looked at Akechi but before Akechi looked away. Akechi had his elbows propped up on the railing so he could rest his chin on his hands. He was watching Akira with an expression that was impossible to read – like he was trying very hard to figure something out. The look in his eyes went straight through Akira’s skin and buried itself in his muscles. It made his legs felt like they were made of cotton, fuzzy and weak.

Then the moment passed and Akechi turned back to the window. “It’s… actually quite nice up here,” he said slowly. 

“Yeah,” Akira managed. He was distracted by how close Akechi was; their arms were nearly touching, to say nothing of how they must have looked to a stranger. Standing side-by-side like this, watching the sunset – had he accidentally invited Akechi on a date?

A quiet part of his brain repeated back: _‘accidentally’_.

“I’ve traveled by airplane a few times,” Akechi continued, “but I’ve never really taken the opportunity to look at the city from above. It… puts things into perspective, somewhat.” He laughed a little, and looked back at Akira. “I have no idea if that was your intention, Kurusu-kun, but thank you.”

Words failed him, and so Akira instead offered up a smile.  


* * *

  
It was quite dark by the time they got back to Yongen-Jaya. The afternoon heat was finally starting to fade, swept away by a warm evening breeze. Akechi and Akira walked down the street back to Leblanc leisurely, neither in a particular hurry to get back.

Akira’s mind was wandering, and suddenly a thought struck him. “Hey, Akechi.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think it’s okay for a leader to act selfishly sometimes?” Akira asked. Akechi tilted his head to look at him.

“A selfish leader…” Akechi repeated. Something about that phrase clearly struck a nerve with him, as his voice had lost the pleasant conversational tone he usually kept. In the dark, however, it was hard to see any reaction on his face. “How do you mean?”

Akira paused, searching for the words. “I guess I mean, if you’re a leader, do you forfeit your right to do things for yourself?”

“Ah.” Akira may have been imagining it, but Akechi sounded a little relieved. “No, I don’t think so. But, I might not call it selfishness to take time for yourself.”

Akira hummed thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?” Akechi added. “Have you been feeling selfish lately?”

That caught Akira off-guard. “Am I a leader?” he asked.

“You certainly seem to be. Your friends admire you,” Akechi said.

“You’re my friend too, you know,” Akira said.

Akechi looked distant for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was so quiet it was nearly carried off by the wind. “Perhaps I admire you, as well.”

They continued back to Leblanc in silence. Sojiro was just closing the shop when they returned, and he seemed quite pleased that they had come back when they did – any longer and he might well have locked them out.

“I’m heading home now. Just lock up after you’ve gotten your things,” Sojiro said, and then he was out the door. Akira chose to ignore Sojiro’s brusque departure and retrieved Akechi’s case from behind the counter.

“Thank you, Kurusu. Truly,” Akechi said, accepting his case from Akira. His lips curved upward just slightly. It was a small smile, but it was a real smile. “I did need a break… and I feel at ease around you,” Akechi added. Then his smile faded and he looked down, like he had accidentally said too much. “…I should be going. It’s late.”

Akira nodded, and walked him to the door. Stepping outside, Akechi turned to look at him, and suddenly Akira’s heart kicked into overdrive. The warm lamplight outside Leblanc made Akechi’s features look soft, framed by wispy, ash-brown hair. In a single moment, every quiet thought Akira had been trying to ignore for the past few weeks rushed into his mind – he felt like he was seeing things in slow motion, his brain going a mile a minute and everything else slowing down to a halt.

_‘It’s not selfishness…’_

 “Good night, Kurusu,” Akechi said. He turned and started to leave for the station.

“Wait—” Akira heard himself call out, and then he was moving forward, reaching his arm out to grab Akechi’s shoulder. Akechi stopped, and Akira nearly ran into him, stopping just short of collision, but they were exceptionally close, not even inches apart.

Before he could falter, before he could think, Akira took Akechi’s face in his hands and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips softly against Akechi’s. At first his brain went blank, white, until he felt Akechi place a steadying hand on his side, bringing Akira back to reality. And then he realized that Akechi was kissing him back, gently, tentatively.

As soon as the courage had arrived, it was gone, and Akira pulled back, dropping his hands to his side. Akechi looked stunned, and he raised his free hand to his mouth, fingers ghosting over his lips.

“Good night,” Akira said quickly, and he turned on his heel and hurried back to Leblanc, disappearing into the dark café before he had a chance to gauge Akechi’s reaction. His face was burning – he could practically feel heat radiating off his cheeks – and his heart was drumming loudly in his ears.

“Akira?” A voice asked from somewhere in the darkness.

“I’m here, Morgana,” Akira replied, his voice only a little shaky.

The cat slunk out of the shadows. “It’s late! Geez, where have you been?”

Akira gave a long sigh. “Sorry to worry you,” he said. Morgana’s bright eyes blinked up at him from the darkness. Akira reached down and scooped him up carefully. “Hey, I’m tired. Let’s go to bed, okay?”  


* * *

  
Akechi made himself scarce after that night – or maybe it was Akira who was hiding. Coincidence or not, the Thieves ended up fairly busy for the next week, first with Futaba’s recovery and then celebrating Medjed’s defeat, and Akira found himself without closure for quite some time. He almost wished he would just run into Akechi in the street or something. Even if it ended with Akechi hating him, it would be better than running through a million possible scenarios in his head.

“C’mon, Leader!” Ryuji said, throwing his arm around Akira’s shoulder, startling him out of his daze. “It’s no fun if you’re not celebratin’ too!” The group had decided to go and grab a late lunch together, a sort of pre-beach but post-Futaba-deciding-to-leave-her-room party. Any reason was a good reason to indulge in snacks as far as they were concerned.

Akira looked up at his friend. “I’m celebrating,” he replied, blinking slowly.

“Dude, at least put some effort into it.” Ryuji sighed, dropping his arm to his side and returning to his noodle bowl.

“You’ve been pretty out of it lately,” Ann commented. She leaned across the table and pressed her hand against Akira's forehead. “Are you feeling okay?”

"That ain't gonna do anything, Ann, you've been eating ramen. Your hand's all hot from the bowl," Ryuji said. Ann scrunched up her face and sat back down in her seat, kicking Ryuji gently under the table.

“If you’re feeling unwell, there’s no need to push yourself,” Yusuke commented. “We can always find another excuse to celebrate.”

Akira tried to give a reassuring smile. "I'm just feeling a little worn out, that's all," he said. Judging by the looks on the Thieves' faces, he was not particularly convincing.

"We've been here for quite some time," Makoto said. "If you'd like to leave early, Akira, I'm sure no one would mind."

"Hey, I would mind!" Morgana piped up from Akira's bag. "He's my ride home, and I'm not done here yet! ...but I suppose it'd be bad to let our Leader get exhausted, so Akira, if you're ready to leave, I won't object."

Akira was grateful his friends offered him the opportunity to bow out early, which is exactly what he did. It wasn't that he wasn't enjoying himself, and he was certainly thrilled that Futaba was feeling well again, his brain was just... somewhere else. He was starting to realize that he had to resolve this whole Akechi situation quickly, before they had to infiltrate another Palace, because he couldn't imagine trying to fight like this. It was one thing to get distracted in the middle of a conversation, but in the middle of a battle?

Luckily, that opportunity would come sooner than he expected, because Akechi was sitting at Leblanc's bar when Akira came home. A tiny panic started to creep into Akira’s brain – he didn’t have a plan of attack ready to go right now – so he took a minute to survey the room. Akechi was currently staring intently into his coffee cup, and did not seem to have noticed that Akira had arrived. Akira decided to let him be for now – but Akechi called his name softly as he passed by.

“I’d like to talk,” Akechi murmured, never looking up from his cup. “If you’re available.”

Akira’s pulse immediately doubled. He nodded and said a hasty “Hold on,” then crossed the store as quickly as he could without arousing Sojiro’s suspicion.

Once they were halfway up the stairs, Morgana poked his head out of Akira’s backpack. “Hey, what’d he say to you? I couldn’t hear.”

Akira briefly considered lying, but decided instead to just understate the truth. “He wants to talk.”

“Hmm. I wonder what he wants,” Morgana said. It made Akira’s chest ache a little to hear the suspicion in Mona’s voice. “I guess we’ll find out.”

“Actually, Morgana, I think I should talk to him alone,” Akira said slowly. He couldn’t think of an explanation that didn’t sound fake or stupid, and he wasn’t about to tell Morgana that he was secretly hoping the talk would end in a kiss and it would be weird to have his sentient cat friend watching. So instead he didn’t expand on his statement, and let Morgana fill in the blanks himself.

The cat regarded him with a puzzled expression for a moment. “Well… okay. If that’s what you want. Hey, take me back downstairs and let me out. I’ll go for a walk.”

Akira gave a smile of relief. “Sounds good.” He dropped his backpack on the ground, out of the way, and then he and Morgana headed back downstairs. Akira forced himself to take the stairs one at a time like a normal person.

Before he left, Morgana looked back at him. “You’re filling me in on the details when I get back, right?”

“I will,” Akira promised. _‘Well, mostly,’ h_ e added silently. Morgana made a cheerful noise and then disappeared into the Yongen-Jaya backstreets.  Akira let the door close, and then made his way back to the counter.

“Akechi-kun,” Akira said, sitting down next to him at the bar. “Let me know when you’re done with your drink, and I can show you those books I was talking about.”

Akechi fixed him with a mildly confused look. Akira stared back at him, trying to telepathically communicate his message to Akechi: _‘It’s quiet upstairs. We can talk in private.’_

“Ah, those books I had stored up in the attic?” Sojiro asked. “There’s some pretty dense stuff in there.”

Akechi blinked slowly. “Oh! Yes,” he said at last. He relaxed a bit and continued, “Kurusu-kun was telling about them not too long ago. Given my line of work, I thought there may be something of interest to me.”

“Hmm. Well, I suppose you might get more use out of them than this guy.” Sojiro gestured at Akira, who stared back at Sojiro with his best “really?” face. Sojiro did not seem to notice. “Oh, but before you take anything, show it to me, okay? Some of the books are… well, they’re keepsakes.”

“Ah, of course,” Akechi said, giving Sojiro a pleasant smile. “I’ll be sure to check in with you first, Sakura-san.”

Akira busied himself with his phone, waiting for Akechi to finish his coffee. After a moment, Akira heard the gentle clinking of glassware, drawing his attention, and Akechi was standing up from his seat. He looked at Akira and said, “Shall we?”

Akira simply nodded, and lead the way upstairs in silence. They stopped briefly at the threshold to Akira’s room, before Akira stepped inside and made his way to the sofa. After a short hesitation, Akechi sat down beside him, dropping his case on the floor.

“So. This is where you live?” Akechi asked.

“Yeah, pretty much.” Akira looked around the room. He didn’t think it was too bad of a space, all things considered. He wondered what kind of room Akechi was used to living in.

Akechi rested his arms on his legs and stared at the floor. “About the other day…” he began.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Akira cut in immediately. “I just…” He felt his face getting hot again already, damn it, “When we hung out before… I thought you’d been flirting with me.”

“I was,” Akechi said, so promptly and plainly, as if he didn’t even realize what that admission would do to Akira’s mind. “I just didn’t think you’d actually…” he trailed off. He was pulling his legs together, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“We can forget about it, if you want,” Akira said, after a while.

Akechi laughed a little. “I may find it hard to forget my first kiss.”

Something about hearing it said out loud made things all too real for Akira – he knew what he did, of course, but it hadn’t really _registered_ in his mind until just now – plus, confirmation that it wasn’t just Akira’s first kiss was almost too much for him to handle. He chose to keep his mouth shut and wait for Akechi to continue.

After a long silence, Akechi finally asked, “…what do you want from me?”

Akechi might as well have punched him in the gut… but he didn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounded worried, even scared. “I don’t…” Akira began to say. _‘I don’t want_ _anything’_ – but that would have been a lie. So instead he twiddled with a piece of his bangs and said, “Whatever you’re willing to give me, I guess.”

“You barely know me,” Akechi said, at last sitting up so he could face Akira. “You’ll learn something about me you don’t like. What then?"

“That’s for me to decide,” Akira said. “But, Akechi... If you’re trying to tell me you want to leave, I—“

“That’s not it,” Akechi said quickly, shaking his head. “…quite the opposite, in fact.” 

Akechi shifted slightly, his knee bumping against Akira’s in an awkward attempt to get closer. He reached out and gently caressed Akira’s cheek; his touch was so delicate, like he thought Akira would break if he pressed too hard. Akechi leaned forward – Akira could feel him trembling – and pressed a tentative kiss against Akira’s lips.

Days of anxiety melted away in an instant. Akira relaxed into the kiss, moving his lips slowly against Akechi’s. He reached out blindly, resting one hand on Akechi’s knee and the other on his shoulder, coaxing his companion closer. Akechi's lips were soft and dry, just like Akira remembered from that night, but even better this time, because he knew this wasn't unwanted. Akira opened his open and experimentally slide his tongue across Akechi's lower lip. Akechi's lips parted, just slightly, but then he broke away, pink-faced and wanting for air - from excitement or inexperience, or maybe both - and Akira took the moment to pull his legs up onto the sofa. Sitting sideways, they didn't have to worry about their legs bumping together anymore.

Akira wasn’t about to let things end after a single kiss, not again, so he curled a hand behind Akechi’s head and pulled him close. Akechi seemed emboldened now – he had stopped shaking and he leaned forward to anticipate Akira’s kiss, moving his hands across Akira’s back with a feather-light touch. It was all Akira could do not to sigh; Akechi was soft and warm and more than he could have imagined. In time, they ended up a tangle of limbs and snagged clothing. It wasn’t especially comfortable, but Akira felt over the moon. He looked down at Akechi, who had ended up beneath Akira somewhere along the line. Akechi smiled up at him. It was the first time, Akira thought, that he had seen Akechi smile without reservations. Akira brushed some of Akechi’s hair away from his eyes.

“You’re cute,” Akira said. He watched Akechi laugh, watched his eyes flutter closed and his nose crinkle, all the little details he would miss from a distance.

After a moment, Akechi sighed. “I can’t stay late,” he said. Akira thought he almost sounded disappointed. “Sakura-san will get suspicious.”

The sun was starting to set, and since they hadn’t bothered to turn on a lamp when they came in, the room was growing darker by the second. Sojiro might not believe that they were talking about books for so long.

Nonetheless, Akira smirked. “Boss is always suspicious of me.”

“Let’s not exacerbate things, then,” Akechi said. Akira figured he was probably right and carefully pushed himself up off the sofa, offering Akechi a hand to help him into a sitting position.

Akechi stood up and started straightening his shirt. Then he turned back to Akira and said, “Kurusu. Are you certain?

“Akechi.” Akira said seriously. He stood up and cupped Akechi’s chin, tilting his head until they were looking each other in the eyes. “I’m not sure if I was giving off mixed messages here, but please allow me to clear things up for you.” He proceeded to give him a long, gentle kiss.

Akechi laughed softly when Akira finally pulled back. “Okay, understood.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking unconvinced. “I… I’m busy a lot. I won’t be able to see you much.”

“You’re still trying to dissuade me?” Akira asked.

“No! No,” Akechi said immediately, which made Akira smirk. He was so easy to tease. “I’m just… not used to this.” He sighed. “Please don’t laugh at me if I’m a bit nervous.”

“Give me your number,” Akira said. “We can talk.”

Akechi just nodded wordlessly, and they exchanged numbers, and then it really was time for them to depart ways. They walked downstairs together. Akechi briefly explained to Sojiro that none of the books caught his eye, but thank you for the offer, really, I need to be going now, and then Akechi was out the door, waving good-bye.

Akira brewed himself a cup of coffee and sat down in the chair outside of Leblanc to wait for Morgana to come home. It was still obnoxiously hot outside, and the coffee was boiling too, but it didn’t bother Akira right now. He knew he had a dopey smile on his face, and he didn’t much care.

“You look happy,” Morgana said when he came home. “Did you get something good from Akechi?”

 _‘You have no idea.’_ “No. Actually, he didn’t have much to say.”

“Hmm.” Morgana looked thoughtful for a moment. “Oh well. Maybe next time?”

Akira barely hid his smirk behind his coffee cup. “Yeah, maybe next time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am completely overwhelmed by the warm reception to chapter one! Honestly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you everyone who read and commented and left kudos - it means a whole lot to me. I'm so excited to share my story with you.


	3. September

Perhaps the thing that surprised Akira the most was how little things changed between him and Akechi in the following weeks. Akira still had school, of course, and training in Mementos, while Akechi had work and probably school as well, though he rarely spoke about his studies. They would still run into each other at the train station, sometimes unexpectedly, sometimes preceded by a good morning text and a request to arrive at the station a little earlier today.

Akira was learning things, though, like that Akechi texted exactly the same way he spoke – that is, in complete sentences and polite to a fault. He learned that while Akechi was reluctant to initiate any kind of affectionate gestures, he seemed to rather enjoy the attention, though he pretended not to. He learned that Akechi preferred coffee brewed with Blue Mountain beans, and that he came to Leblanc most often on Tuesdays and Thursdays, days when fewer court cases were held.

Spending the evening together at Leblanc became a common occurrence. Often this would involve simply sitting side-by-side in silence, each focused on their own work, or quietly chatting over coffee and curry. Sometimes, though, they would stay late, pretending to study until Sojiro closed the café and left for home. When the lights were out and the door was locked, Akechi would let Akira kiss him, hidden away in a booth seat, swathed in shadows. It was quiet and clandestine and it made Akira’s heart race.

How Morgana didn’t notice was a mystery to Akira – or maybe he did notice, and he was just polite enough not to mention it.

Akira wasn’t really sure _what_ they were – boyfriends seemed too formal, friends with benefits seemed too crude – and Akechi did not seem at all interested in discussing it, so Akira didn’t ask. He decided it was enough to live in the moment and enjoy their weird little relationship, whatever it was.

“Joker, watch it!” Futaba cried out.

Akira snapped back to the present, just in time to see a huge, hulking shadow tear into his shoulder with its claws. It broke right through his clothes and his skin, and left a long, deep gash, sizzling with some kind of caustic discharge.

Akira tried to suppress his pain and frustration and ordered, “Fox, take it out!”

Yusuke was able to make swift work of the shadow. The fight had been raging for some time before Akira lost track of his situation – that attack must have been a desperate last stand. Once they were safely in the clear, Morgana bounded over to him.

“You okay, Joker?” he asked, lifting his paws out and casting a healing spell. Instantly the wound closed up, and the acidic residue evaporated. It still hurt, but at least it wasn’t likely to get infected now. Akira wasn’t sure if humans could catch diseases from Mementos, but the whole place was so grimy that it wouldn’t exactly surprise him.

Akira smiled through the pain and gave Morgana a thankful nod. “I am now. Thanks, Mona.”

Morgana smiled, just a bit, and then he turned and glared at Ryuji. “Look at you! Even Joker’s off his game thanks to you.”

“ME?” Ryuji barked, looming over Morgana. “Please, you –”

“Shut it, both of you,” Akira interrupted, getting to his feet. “That was our last target for today, so we’re headed home now. No arguing.” It was an order, and the group followed him without another word, but a tense air settled over the Mona bus as they drove back up to the surface.

Akira frowned, staring out the window into the darkness. He really should have noticed the growing dissent between the other Thieves earlier… then maybe he could have shut it down before things escalated to shouting matches. He wished Mishima had never set up that damn poll; all the public attention was putting everyone on edge.

Ryuji left immediately once they returned to reality, leaving the others to say awkward goodbyes and go their separate ways and, predictably, leaving Akira with the bulk of the loot. He reluctantly loaded two large bags of assorted junk and treasure up onto his arms, and he and Morgana walked back to Leblanc in silence.

Just before they arrived, Morgana struggled out of Akira’s bag and onto the ground. He didn’t look up at Akira before saying, “I’m going on a walk. I’ll be back.”

Without waiting for a response, the cat slipped off and disappeared around a corner. Akira was going to have to confront Morgana about his behavior eventually, but it could wait. Morgana clearly needed some time to himself, and Akira desperately needed to set down the bags of treasure that were weighing down his arms.

He pried open Leblanc’s door and carefully shuffled inside. Behind the counter, Sojiro stared at him, completed befuddled. “Kid… I swear,” he said, sighing. Akechi – who had just arrived, apparently, since he did not seem to have ordered anything yet – immediately hopped up and came to Akira’s side.

“Do you need help?” he asked at once, already grabbing one bag and lifting it off of Akira’s arm. Akira smiled gratefully, and motioned for Akechi to follow him upstairs.

“What is all this stuff?” Akechi asked as they were climbing the stairs. The bags were stuffed with dozens of copper and silver coins, dirt-crusted pieces of clothing, old papers and keys, and a handful of other weird, discarded items that had fallen into Mementos in one way or another.

It was not exactly the easiest thing to explain away. Akira thought for a moment. “Recycling?” he suggested.

“You sound so certain,” Akechi said, obviously sarcastic, but he didn’t pry any further.

They dropped the treasure bags at the foot of Akira’s futon. Akira sighed in relief and gave Akechi a quick “thank you” before he allowed himself to flop down on the sofa. He sat down a little too quickly, though, and his shoulder hit the back of the sofa. He visibly winced, something which did not go unnoticed by his companion.

“Are you hurt?” Akechi asked.

“My shoulder…” Akira said vaguely. “It’s fine, though.”

Akechi frowned. He leaned over in front of Akira and looked him in the eye, like he was trying to catch Akira lying. After a few silent seconds, Akechi shook his head, grabbed Akira by the collar, and began unbuttoning his top. Akira felt suddenly quite warm – _another_ action that did not slip past Akechi’s eye.

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said, smirking in a way that very much gave Akira the wrong idea, thanks, “I just want to see the wound.”

Then Akechi pushed Akira’s sleeve off his shoulder, revealing the injury from Mementos. It was largely healed in Mementos, thanks to Morgana’s quick spell, but it left a dark, tender wound on him in real life. It wasn’t bleeding, but it still looked pretty nasty. Akira wasn’t used to getting hit as squarely as he was today.

Akechi closed his eyes and exhaled heavily through his nose. “Do you have medical supplies?” he asked, and Akira nodded, gesturing to the shelf across the room.

Akechi treated his wound with remarkable efficiency. “You need to be more careful with this kind of thing,” he said, once he had finished applying the bandage. “Even if you manage to patch yourself up in the moment, you’ll need to treat the wound properly, otherwise you’ll get scars.”

“Scars are sexy,” Akira quipped.

“I’m serious,” Akechi said. Indeed, there was no trace of amusement anywhere on his face – he looked almost alarmingly grave. Akira hadn’t expected that kind of reaction. It wasn’t particularly like Akechi to over-react… at least, Akira thought it wasn’t.

“All right, I hear you,” Akira said. “I’ll be more careful.”

Akechi seemed satisfied, and they retreated back downstairs to the café.

“I’m going to Hawaii for a few days,” Akira mentioned offhandedly. Akechi raised his eyebrows, and Akira clarified, “School trip.”

“Ah, that’s actually quite fortunate. I’m going to be out of town for work this week. It seems our schedules have synced up rather nicely,” Akechi said.

“Oh? What’ve they got you working on?” Akira asked.

Akechi did not immediately respond. For a moment, he seemed to be very far away, his eyes dull and his expression as still as stone. It was gone in a blink, though, and Akira was left wondering if he had been imagining things. “I’ll be meeting with a fairly important client,” Akechi said. “One of my superiors asked me to accompany him on his trip.”

“You don’t sound thrilled,” Akira commented, and Akechi laughed dryly.

“I’d prefer not to travel, unless it’s absolutely necessary,” he said, and he gave a small smile that didn’t seem to reach his eyes. “I suppose it’s good that you’re the one leaving the country and not me, hmm?”

 

* * *

 

Hawaii was a welcome respite. The Thieves – nearly all of them, somehow or another – seemed content to forget their argument for the duration of the trip. It would have been the perfect vacation, Akira thought, if it weren’t for the text Futaba sent him the day of his return flight, frantically telling him that Morgana had never come home for dinner.

So instead of feeling rested, instead of feeling comforted by the sight of Leblanc, which had come to feel like home, he was drowning in anxiety and the odd feeling that something was looming just over his shoulder.

Sojiro all but laughed at him when he arrived at Leblanc. “Geez, you look like hell. Was the flight that bad?” he asked, and Akira just gave him a long, tired stare. Sojiro continued, “That kid’s upstairs,” – everyone was “kid” to Sojiro if they were under 18 and not female – “it got a bit loud down here earlier. He seemed pretty studious, and since you know him, I figured it’d be okay.”

Akira did not care to press Sojiro for details, so he just went upstairs. He was not particularly surprised to see Akechi sitting on his sofa, legs pulled up underneath him, quietly reading a book, but it still made his heart jump to see him looking so at home and so comfortable in Akira’s own bedroom. When he stepped into the room, the movement caught Akechi’s eye, and he looked up. “Ah… welcome home.”

“Miss me?” Akira asked. He dropped his suitcase out of the way and sat down on the sofa beside him.

Akechi’s lips quirked into a tiny smile. “You were gone?” he asked. Akira put on a pout, a little over-the-top, but it made Akechi laugh - such a nice sound, Akira thought. He hadn't realized just how much he enjoyed hearing it. “…I did miss you, actually,” Akechi added quietly, and he started to fidget with his hands, idly rubbing his thumb against his index finger.

Akira was starting to recognize the little signs that meant Akechi wanted to be touched, and this was one of them. “Is that why you snuck into my room?” Akira asked, reaching out and taking the side of Akechi's face in his hand.

“It – it was Sakura-san’s suggestion,” Akechi stammered, looking away from Akira. “I’m sorry I intruded.”

“It’s fine,” Akira said, smoothing his thumb over Akechi’s cheek. Akechi leaned into Akira’s touch, just barely. They shared a quiet moment together, Akira pressing a soft kiss against Akechi's lips, and Akira was perfectly content to spend the rest of his evening like this, exactly like this, until-

“Akira?” A muffled voice sounded out from across the room. “It’s Makoto. May I come in?”

Akechi sprang back from Akira like he had just touched a hot stove and Akira gave a surprising, reflexive jolt. They settled themselves quickly, though, and Akira called out to Makoto, just as she decided to poke her head around the wall and look inside. Akira motioned for her to come in. She looked as though she had barely recovered from the flight: tired eyes and mussed hair, and Akira wondered if she had even gone home yet. “I’m sorry for barging in like this," she began, "But I - Akechi-kun?”

“Ah, good evening Makoto-san,” Akechi said, putting on a pleasant smile. He was quite red in the face, but the room light was low enough that it wasn’t obvious, especially from a distance.

“I… wasn’t expecting to see you,” Makoto said. She looked from Akira to Akechi, momentarily lost, like she had been thrown off course by the unexpected visitor, but she regained her composure in no time. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Actually… I’m glad you’re here, Akechi-kun. You might be able to help.”

Akira shifted, leaning forward towards Makoto. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Makoto sighed. “I’ve just learned something quite urgent: Principal Kobayakawa passed away.” As she spoke, she stared straight at Akira, unblinking. Akira met her intense gaze, a look she usually reserved for fights, and he nodded very slightly. He wanted to confirm that he got her hidden meaning, that she suspected foul play.

“Your principal?” Akechi asked, and Akira nodded. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Makoto turned her attention to Akechi. “Akechi-kun, you work with my sister, correct?” He nodded, and so Makoto continued, “Have you noticed anything… off about her lately?”

Akechi closed his eyes in thought, and then shook his head. “I haven’t had many chances to see Sae-san lately, I’m afraid. I’ve passed her in the halls a few times, but she hasn’t stopped to say hello. Though, that could be considered an anomaly in and of itself.”

“I see,” Makoto said. She couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. “When she told me about Principal Kobayakawa, she seemed… I’m not sure how to describe it. She didn’t seem herself.”

“I wish I could be of more help,” Akechi said, “But… if things are as you say, then I need to go.” He sighed and stood up from the sofa. “It’s possible this is related to the mental shutdown cases. It’s likely someone has already tried to contact me.”

They exchanged goodbyes, with Akechi promising to let Makoto know if he noticed anything about Sae-san, and then Makoto sat down beside Akira.

“Akira…” Makoto began, and Akira could already tell he was not going to enjoy this conversation, “Why was Akechi-kun here?” Makoto’s eyebrows were knit together, and she had a piercing stare that, coupled with her curt tone, made Akira feel like he was on trial.

“…We’re friends,” Akira said. Strictly speaking, this was not false, but it wasn’t the truth and it wasn’t what Makoto was looking for; her frown made that obvious.

“You do understand why that’s dangerous, right?” she said more than asked.

“I don’t think it’s as dangerous as you think,” he replied.

Makoto sighed. “I trust your judgment, Akira-kun,” she said, “I just… things are so unpredictable right now. Please be careful.” After this, she stood up. “I wanted to tell you in person, but I also think we should hold a meeting tomorrow to discuss this with the others. It could be nothing, but it could be a sign of something worse to come. …Morgana is still missing, as well.”

“We’ve got a lot on our plates,” Akira agreed. “Go get some sleep, Makoto.”

Makoto nodded, and as she was leaving, she looked back at him and said, “You do the same, Akira-kun.”

 

* * *

 

Despite his crippling jetlag, Akira felt restless. He couldn’t sit still after his conversation with Makoto, and since he had already had two unexpected guests this evening, he was eager to go somewhere he wouldn’t be easily recognized. Eventually, he found himself on his way to Shinjuku.

“Hey, Akira-kunnn!” a chipper voice called out to him. Chihaya was waving at him, her arm moving in big, carefree motions. Of course, he should have realized that there were people who would recognize him in Shinjuku too, but seeing Chihaya would be a nice distraction, and who knows, she might even be able to offer some insight. She didn’t appear to have a client for the time being, so Akira ambled over to see her.

Chihaya gave good advice when she wasn’t bogged down by her Holy Stone quota. It was simple enough to help other people change their fate – you just had to give them the confidence to do it. A surprising number of people already had the ability to change their lives, just not the nerve. Not that this was particularly helpful to Akira, though; he had nerve, to be sure, but sometimes he felt like the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

“You’re back from your trip already, huh?” Chihaya asked when Akira sat down at her table. Akira only nodded in reply, which made Chihaya frown at him. “You seem down. Did something bad happen?”

Akira shook his head. “The trip was fine,” he said, but he couldn’t think of anything to add, so he just shut his mouth. Chihaya held her chin in her hands and regarded him for a long time.

“Let me read your fortune, okay?” she finally asked, and for once, Akira was actually hesitant. Usually he was more than willing to let Chihaya tell his fortune. Something small and nice might happen at best, and at worst, nothing at all, save for possibly giving him a hint about what the future would hold. There was a strange current in the air tonight, though, and Akira felt that he wouldn’t like what the cards had to say.

“C’mon, Akira-kun,” Chihaya urged, and at last he nodded. He took a deep breath and listened to Chihaya shuffle her cards, listened to the little slap they made when she placed them on the table. She turned the cards over one by one, taking her time to carefully consider each new piece of the puzzle as it appeared.

Once the cards were all revealed, Chihaya poured over them, studying them carefully. Akira watched her to see if she would reveal any secrets before she meant to, but her face was remarkably placid.

“Akira-kun…” she said slowly, not looking up from the cards, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah?” Akira said. “I thought I was. Why?”

Chihaya looked pensive. “How many times have I told your fortune now? It’s gotta be a dozen or so…” she began, folding her hands in her lap. “You know, most people’s paths don’t change too drastically from reading to reading, so when something new shows up, it’s easy to connect the dots. But, Akira…”

“Just tell me, Chihaya,” he said. “Not knowing is just making me anxious.”

“…you have such an interesting outlook,” she said, with a brief smile that faded as soon as it arrived. “I’ve never seen anything like this before – not to this degree, anyway. There’s a – a knot in your path. No – it’s more like your path is a knot. Dozens of threads meshed together, and I can’t sense anything beyond it. It’s like a cage, or a… well, not a prison, but… maybe a very small room with no exits?”

Akira didn’t exactly understand, but he could see how much it upset Chihaya. “And this is completely new?” Akira asked.

Chihaya nodded. “The last time – it was the beginning of the month, right? The day I had to close up early because of a storm – the last time I read your fortune, your path was running… not quite parallel, but alongside several others. It was dark, and I sensed that it was leading to your death, but it also felt hopeful, in a way – open and expansive. Now, though…” Chihaya winced, and her hand flew to her temple. “I can feel the pressure physically. Akira-kun… what’s happened to put so much on a kid like you…?”

She looked at him with such sad eyes that Akira felt compelled to make a joke, something, anything to try and lighten the mood. “You’re not going to pawn another Holy Stone off on me, are you?” he asked, and this did at least make Chihaya smile.

“No, of course not,” she replied, shaking her head. “I just want you to be careful, Akira-kun.”

Akira leaned back in his chair. There was that phrase again – be careful. That advice was all well and good, but he had to wonder: if fate had it out for him, did it really matter if he was careful or not?

 

* * *

 

Despite his best efforts, Akira was troubled by Chihaya’s words. He had a restless night and he continued to feel gloomy well into the next day, during the Thieves meeting he and Makoto had called. Kobayakawa’s death, not to mention their unexpected meeting with Morgana in Okumura’s palace, had everyone riled up. Akira did his best to listen, but all he could hear was Ryuji, Ann, and Futaba trying to talk over each other, which sounded like radio static.

His life was a knot. What the hell did that mean?

The meeting concluded with the decision to stake out Mementos tomorrow, so at the very least, it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Once they were finished, Akira and Futaba walked back to Leblanc together, though neither had much to say. When they arrived, Akechi was waiting for them; he had texted Akira earlier in the day and mentioned that he was surprisingly free that afternoon, so it was no surprise to see him, at least not for Akira. Futaba, on the other hand, looked at him with a frown, before ultimately trudging up to the counter and pulling herself into the seat closest to the coffee makers. She laid her head on the counter without saying anything. 

“Ah, there you are, Kurusu. And…” Akechi tilted his head to look sideways at Futaba, “You must be Futaba-chan, right? I’m–”

“I know who you are,” Futaba said flatly, before he could get another word out. She had a blank look on her face, not particularly friendly, but not antagonistic, either. Rather, she seemed very tired.

“Ah… I suppose you would,” Akechi said, his voice a little deflated. “Um… Kurusu-kun told me that your cat had gone missing. I’m terribly sorry.”

“Yeah,” Futaba pulled her arms up onto the counter so she could use them like a pillow. “I hate this, Akira. I want everyone to stop fighting. And I want Mona to come home…”

“I know. Me too,” Akira said. It was a depressingly vague reply, and it pained Akira to realize that he didn’t have anything else to say. So he ambled behind the counter and put on his apron, for lack of anything else to do.

“It might not be my place to say this,” Akechi said slowly, breaking their awkward silence, “But it may help to consider disagreements in a positive light. It means no one is afraid to say what they truly feel. A group that never argues is a group where people are withholding their opinions for the sake of stability.” Futaba blinked at him, and Akechi sighed. “Um, what I mean is… if you’re confident in your friendship, you don’t need to worry about a single fight,” he finished.

“…I guess so,” Futaba said, after a long consideration. She sounded uncertain, but she picked her head up and sat a little straighter. “Hey Akira, would you make me some curry?” she asked. Akira obliged, and at the prospect of food, Futaba perked up significantly. She started chattering about regular Futaba things, and after a couple of minutes she had banished her gloomy disposition entirely. “Akiraaa," she chirped at one point, "Hero Defenders of Legend got picked up for a fourth season! It was just announced today! I'm crazy excited.”

“Oh, you like HDL?” Akechi asked suddenly, his face brightening. “I was finally able to finish watching season three a few weeks ago. I know it’s been out for a while, but I was so busy…”

Futaba stared at him with narrowed eyes. “…YOU like HDL?” she repeated back to him.

“O-oh, um…” Akechi stammered, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I just – I enjoy science fiction, and I had heard favorable things about it online, and so…”

Futaba’s eyes lit up, and she turned in her seat to stare at him. “Who’s your favorite character? Did you like season three? What do you think about–”

Akira lost track of their conversation while he was cooking, but from what he could tell, Futaba and Akechi both looked remarkably animated. In fact, their conversation only lulled when the curry was finished and Akira had brought them their plates. After some time and a good deal of curry, Akira noticed Futaba was staring at Akechi.

“…not so bad,” Futaba mumbled into her spoon.

Akechi looked up, almost unsure if the remark had even been directed towards him. “I-I’m sorry? I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said, you’re not so bad,” Futaba repeated, crossing her arms. “You seem totally stuck up on TV, but if you like Hero Defenders of Legend, I guess you can’t be that bad. And, um…” Futaba looked up at him briefly. “I think you’re right. About the fight, I mean. So thanks.”

"Ah... you're quite welcome," Akechi said, after deciding that she did indeed mean to compliment him. The three of them passed the rest of their evening together, eating and talking casually about one thing or another, and Akira found himself contemplating Chihaya's words once again. It was just so hard to believe that his future was headed towards the sort of despair that she had described when he was sitting in a warm cafe with good friends and good food - even if he accounted for the fighting among the Thieves right now.

At the same time, though, Akira had to admit... he hadn't seen Chihaya's fortunes fail to predict the truth yet. Not even once.


	4. October I

Akira had always liked October, when the weather became more agreeable and most of the bugs had decided to fuck off for the rest of the year, and it was this residual good will towards the month that kept Akira from losing his mind. Between dungeon crawling, mediating his friends’ conversations, and the looming threat of finals, it was not a particularly cheery time for Akira.

Not helping matters was the day that Ann pulled Akira aside after school insisted he go see Takemi for a check-up.

“You’ve been in a funk for weeks,” she said – not false, but still – “and how do you know you don’t have like, a secret cold or a parasite or something?” – Akira politely informed her that that was extremely unlikely – “Oh, and Makoto says we have to go get flu shots.”

There was no arguing with Makoto, and so one afternoon Ann and Akira found themselves sitting in the examination room at Takemi’s clinic.

Takemi herself was leaning back in her chair, her legs propped up on her desk. She had administered the flu shots as efficiently and unsympathetically as Akira had come to expect from her, and once they were finished, she lazily turned her eye towards Akira and Ann.

“So, tell me what’s been going on,” she said.

“U-um, well,” – this was Ann’s first time visiting Takemi in-person, instead of just hearing about her second hand from Akira, and all things considered she was taking it rather well – “I’ve noticed that Akira seems really out of it. Like, his reaction time is slowed or something? Or he’s seemed really absent-minded?” Ann trailed off and gave Akira a pained glance. “…Uh, Akira? How have you been?”

Akira stared blankly at Ann. _‘This was your idea, not mine,’_ is what he wanted to say, but instead he settled for, “I’m fine. Mostly fine.”

Takemi raised an eyebrow. “Mostly?” she repeated.

“Didn’t sleep well last night,” Akira clarified.

“Is something on your mind?” Takemi asked, and Akira made an affirmative noise instead of answering outright. “Something within your control, or out of your control?”

Dozens of things came to mind: the future of the Phantom Thieves, for one, given the events of the past few weeks; the pitying look Chihaya would give him, which only brought back memories of that haunting fortune; the lurching mix of guilt and joy he kept experiencing whenever he was with Akechi…

“Both. Or, well… out of my control, I guess,” Akira said.

“Hmm,” Takemi tapped her clipboard thoughtfully, before swiveling her chair around to face Akira and Ann. “Based on the symptoms you’ve described, I have to diagnose you with a severe bout of lovesickness.”

“What? Lovesickness? I-is that even real?” Ann exclaimed. Akira, meanwhile, stared pitifully at Takemi. As if he should have expected anything else from her.

Takemi hummed in amusement. “Only kidding, of course,” she said, her eyes sparkling, a look Akira found all too familiar. “But honestly – absent-mindedness, lack of focus, feelings restless – I mean, who wouldn’t come to that conclusion?”

“Uh, well… I guess?” Ann sounded like she was trying to decide whether or not Takemi had forged her medical license.

“Listen,” Takemi said, turning to face Akira directly. “Physically, you’re perfectly healthy. Make sure you’re getting enough sleep and drinking enough water. If you’re still having trouble focusing in a couple of weeks, I can put you in touch with someone who can help. And don’t overdo it with the medicine, okay?”

“I got it,” Akira said. He sounded a little more sarcastic than he intended, so he quickly added, “Thanks, Doc.”

“Of course,” Takemi replied. She seemed perfectly unfazed by his momentary slip-up, although she was starting to grin a familiar grin. “I’m always happy to make sure my favorite guinea pig is in top condition.”

“Guinea pig?” Ann repeated.

“Don’t worry about it,” Akira said quickly, taking Ann by the shoulders and marching her out of the office, thanking Takemi and waving goodbye as he did. Ann protested briefly but ultimately allowed Akira to lead her away.

Once they were outside, Akira let go of Ann, and he mumbled a quiet “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Ann said, and she took a moment to brush off her shoulders, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt sleeve. “W-well… if the doctor says you’re healthy, then I guess you’re okay.” She said, sighing. “But umm…”

Ann trailed off. She was twirling the tip of one of her ponytails idly, doing her best to look casual. Akira frowned. “What is it?”

“Well, was she right?” Ann asked. When Akira looked at her with a blank stare, she huffed and stamped her foot a little. “Akiraaa! Do you have a crush? Is that what’s been distracting you?”

“Oh,” Akira said. Very briefly, he considered the merits of letting Ann know about his newly formed relationship with the biggest Phantom Thieves detractor in the country. She was probably the one least likely to disapprove, but the lump in his throat made him think twice. “No.”

“Hmm…” Ann looked at him, disbelief clear in her eyes. “Well, okay. But Akira, you know you can tell me anything, right? You can trust me. It’s like… honor among thieves, or whatever.” She reached out and patted him on the shoulder, giving him a gentle, friendly squeeze.

Akira smiled. He knew that, of course, but in light of everything going on recently, it was quite nice to hear. “I know. Thanks, Ann.”

 

* * *

 

It was already getting dark by the time Akira got back to Leblanc – it wasn’t late, but the sky was dark grey with storm clouds, blotting out the setting sun. He hurried inside right as he started to feel raindrops. Then Sojiro threw an apron at his face and relegated him to dish duty for the rest of the evening, and Akira didn’t even bother to argue. It was monotonous and occasionally gross, but it was kind of nice, in a Zen sort of way; it gave him time to be alone with his thoughts.

Akira was jolted out of his dish-reverie by the door chime sounding. The rain had kept almost everyone away, and it was just about closing time anyway. Sojiro turned around, frowning and ready to chastise a customer who would walk into a café five minutes before closing, but then he said, “Oh, it’s you.”

A very damp Akechi was standing in the doorway. “I apologize for the intrusion,” he said, bowing his head slightly towards Sojiro, and flinging a few raindrops to the floor in the process.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Sojiro sighed, waving his hand dismissively. “Come in. You should at least wait out the storm. Uh, for whatever good it’ll do you,” he added.

Akechi gave a half-hearted smile. “The offer is much appreciated,” he said, and he took a seat at the counter while Akira busied himself helping Sojiro close up shop.

It wasn’t long before Sojiro retired to the Sakura household and Akira and Akechi alone.

Akira stepped out from around the counter, pulling off his apron and tossing it onto some shelf. “Sorry about the rain,” he said.

Akechi laughed, barely. “As if it’s your fault.”

Akira took a moment to look at Akechi; he was still dripping wet, his head and his shoulders especially, and the bottoms of his slacks, but it seemed like he had not made any attempt to dry off. He had a decidedly melancholy look at his face.

Akira sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, you’re – c’mon,” he said, motioning for Akechi to follow him, “Let me get you a towel. You’ve gotta be miserable.”

At first, he wasn’t sure Akechi was going to listen to him, but then he pushed away from the counter and stood up. He seemed unsteady on his feet.

“What, did you lose your umbrella?” Akira asked while they were walking up the stairs, in what he hoped was a casual and light-hearted tone. It earned him a tiny pity smile from Akechi.

“I just forgot,” he said. His voice sounded a bit strained, like he had been talking all day. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”

_‘I can relate.’_

“I can relate,” Akira said dryly.

Once they were upstairs, Akira found one of his clean bath towels and tossed it to Akechi, who fumbled slightly but managed to catch it just fine, and he set to work patting his hair dry.

“So…” Akira started, “Not that I mind, but what brings you here so late?”

Akechi shrugged, taking the towel in his hands and folding it loosely. “Nothing in particular. I just found my apartment to be somewhat stifling this evening.”

This was a particularly bad lie for someone who was usually exceptionally good at hiding his intentions behind a pleasant smile and a natural tone of voice. Rather, it wasn’t a lie, but it was absolutely not the entire story. Though realizing this wasn’t much help, as Akechi decidedly did not wear his heart on his sleeve.

“You live alone, right?” Akira asked.

“Mm,” Akechi nodded. He was curt and he refused to elaborate, and that alone told Akira plenty.

Then they lapsed into silence, standing awkwardly a few feet apart in the middle of Akira’s room. A distant clap of thunder rumbled through the air.

Akira looked at the towel in Akechi’s hands, and then he closed the distance between them, grabbing Akechi’s shirt collar, and began to undo his tie.

Akechi jumped a bit at the sudden movement, or maybe the sudden closeness, and it made him drop the towel. “Ah—K-Kurusu?” he stammered.

Akira lowered his eyes, tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. “Your shirt is still soaked,” he said quietly. “At least let me lend you some dry clothes, okay?”

He didn’t look up, but he could feel Akechi nod. Akira pulled Akechi’s tie loose and placed it gently on the ground, and then he started on the buttons.

 _‘He could do this himself…’_ A small part of Akira’s brain told him, and he thought back, _‘Then why doesn’t he stop me?’_

He did not have an answer.

Akechi, however, did.

“I wanted to see you,” Akechi said, right as Akira was moving on to his second-to-last button. Akira looked up. Akechi’s face was deeply flushed, and his hair was sticking to his forehead.

“Huh?” Akira said, and he imagined he looked about as dumb as he sounded.

“That’s why I’m here,” Akechi said. Akira noticed he was trembling – when had that started? The rain could have made him cold, but…

“You – you could have texted me,” Akira said. He had temporarily forgotten his task, still holding Akechi loosely by the edge of his shirt, “I could have brought you an umbrella…”

Akechi gave a tiny, very bitter smile. “I was… worried you would say no,” Akechi said. He gave a self-depreciating smirk. “I guess it was foolish of me.”

Akira blinked at him. “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “Don’t worry about things like that,” he added, and then he seemed to remember what he was doing, remembered that – oh right, Akechi had walked here in the rain, without an umbrella…

Akira could see goosebumps dotting Akechi’s skin. “You’re cold,” he said. “I should –”

“I’m not.”

Akira looked up again. The smirk had left Akechi’s face, leaving him looking quite serious. “What do you mean?” Akira asked.

“I’m not cold,” Akechi repeated. He leaned forward, just slightly, and pressed his forehead to Akira’s. “You see?”

His hair was still a bit damp and cool, but Akechi wasn’t wrong; his skin felt warm. Akira did not fully process this, however, because his heart had jumped up and was currently beating in his throat.

“Ah,” Akira managed to say. “You’re right.”

When he raised his eyes, he found Akechi already looking back at him. It seemed that the atmosphere in the room had shifted quite suddenly, like the moment before a lightning storm, with the promise of electricity crackling in the air.

Akira opened his mouth and couldn’t think of anything to say.

Then something brushed against his arm and he flinched, until he heard Akechi laugh softly and he realized it was Akechi’s gloved fingers, delicately running over Akira’s arm.

“Are you sure you aren’t the cold one?” Akechi asked. “You’re shivering.”

Akira let out a quick, shaky breath.

For a moment, Akira forgot about the Phantom Thieves. He ignored the fact that Akechi was his rival – maybe even his enemy – no; he pushed those troubled thoughts to the back of his mind. For a moment, Akira was normal again, no criminal record, no weird powers, no important destiny.

His October had not been particularly great up thus far. But there was always a silver lining.

Akira curled his hand behind Akechi’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, quicker than he meant to, crushing their lips together. He heard Akechi sigh and felt his fingers curl around Akira’s arm, pulling them closer, and it seemed that Akechi didn’t mind the rough start at all, because he was moving his lips against Akira’s, quick and eager.

Akira felt Akechi wrap his free hand around the back of his neck, threading his fingers through Akira’s thick, curly hair, twisting strands around his fingers, tugging gently, and every pull felt like a little spark to Akira. Akechi’s touches were nothing but sparks, sparks that ran straight through Akira’s bones and settled in his core.

It was all he could do not to sigh into their kiss. Instead he opened his mouth, just slightly, inviting Akechi to nip at Akira’s lower lip, and this time Akira really couldn’t stop from giving a low, breathy groan.

Then Akechi pulled back, and Akira briefly wondered if he had made a mistake, but Akechi took a step backwards, pulling Akira by the arm, towards the futon. Akira walked forward like a zombie, one foot in front of the other, until he was kneeling down onto his bed with Akechi lying beneath him.

It wasn’t as obvious while he was standing, but as he lay down, Akira became acutely aware of his own arousal, and he let out another soft groan right as Akechi leaned up and captured Akira’s lips again. He carefully positioned himself so he was straddling Akechi’s legs and then he pushed his hips up against Akechi’s experimentally – and god, he could feel Akechi hard against him, too, and Akechi pushed right back, desperate for attention.

Akira’s hands wandered to Akechi’s chest, and he realized he had never finished unbuttoning Akechi’s shirt. This seemed a much graver mistake now than it had earlier, and Akira fumbled with the last two buttons as quickly as he was able.

Akechi pulled back, just a bit. “Not fair,” he said, his lips brushing against Akira’s with each word, and before Akira had a chance to ask what exactly wasn’t fair, Akechi had slid his hands under the hem of Akira’s shirt and was pushing it up his chest.

Akira laughed and pulled his shirt up and over his shoulders and tossed it unceremoniously to the floor. Then he pulled Akechi close, bringing their bodies flush against each other so he could relish the sensation of skin-on-skin contact. He nuzzled against Akechi’s neck, lips pressing softly against his skin, and then, sucking on a particularly soft spot just below Akechi’s jaw.

He heard Akechi stifle a moan, and Akira felt another pulse of arousal run through him.

 _God,_ Akechi was impossible. He was too much.

He could feel Akechi’s lips on his neck, kissing up along his jawbone, and Akira turned to meet him. Akechi kissed him with an open mouth, nudging his tongue against Akira’s lips and then, when Akira opened up for him, sliding his tongue against Akira’s, which was weird and slippery and wonderful. Akira rolled his hips again and again, needy and wanting.

Akechi broke away, gasping for breath, his lips wet and parted, and he met Akira’s gaze. “I–” He began, voice cracking just a bit; he cleared his throat, and tried again, “Could I…?”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but that didn’t stop Akira from immediately answering, “Yes.” And then, just to clarify, he added, “Anything.”

He heard Akechi huff, amused. “Very bold of you,” he said. He sat up and gently nudged Akira back until he was laying flat on the bed. Then he traced his fingers over Akira’s chest, leaving Akira shivering from his touch. “I’ll have to test that sometime.”

 _‘God, please,'_   Akira thought.

Akechi took his time, winding his way down Akira’s body, achingly slow. Akira flexed his hips, trying to steal a bit of friction from the air, trying to force Akechi to move faster. Soon Akechi’s hands were on his thighs, and then he pressed his palm against Akira’s length, and Akira all but whimpered; the jolt of pleasure that surged through his body was deliciously warm. At last Akechi took care of Akira’s zipper, nudging his pants down his hips.

_Haa—_

Akira’s breath caught in his throat when Akechi pulled his boxers down and the cool air hit him. He was breathless, his head was getting fuzzy; it was so overwhelming. He was already impossibly hard just from the sight of Akechi between his thighs, and when Akechi slowed dipped down, mouthing over the head of his cock, it was–

 _“Akechi,”_ Akira moaned, right as Akechi took Akira into his mouth. Now Akira really did feel like a bundle of nerves, tremors running through his whole body to the point that he wasn’t sure he could fully process what was happening.

What Akechi lacked in coordination he made up for with enthusiasm; he moved his head in a clumsy rhythm over Akira’s length, but his mouth was tight and wet and so warm that Akira thought he would melt into him. His hips were moving without his command, shallow thrusts, impossible to control, like his body was begging for more.

Akira stared down his body, watching Akechi’s head bobbing between his thighs. “Akechi,” He gasped again, and he got Akechi to look up at him. He smirked around Akira’s cock and plunged his head down, taking Akira far deeper than he had before and pulling a guttural moan from Akira’s throat.

“Akechi…” Akira loved saying his name, loved reminding himself that this was real and happening and that Akechi was the one responsible for the pressure building up in his core.

“I– ”

Akechi swiped his tongue across the tip of Akira’s cock, sending another surge of pleasure through his limbs.

“I’m close, _god_ –”

Akechi held Akira close and Akira couldn’t help but come into Akechi’s mouth, his hips still writhing jerkily as he rode out his orgasm. He faintly heard Akechi splutter, nearly gagging, trying to keep his mouth locked around Akira, and as he was coming back to his senses, he heard Akechi say something.

“I-I’m sorry? I didn’t expect it—“

Akira pulled himself upright. His whole body was trembling, little shocks of pleasure still rippling through his body. He was finally able to see Akechi clearly; his eyes were wide, his face flushed, lips swollen, Akira’s come running down his chin – and it was too much, too, too much for Akira to handle. He surged forward and took Akechi’s face in his hands, kissing him.

“You were,” Akira managed to say, “so good. _So_ good,” he said, continuing to press his mouth against Akechi’s, kissing away the mess around his lips.

“Kurusu,” Akechi pulled back, whispering against Akira’s mouth. “Kurusu,” he almost whimpered, “Please...”

His eyes were shut tight – he was embarrassed. God that was so fucking cute.

Akira was happy to oblige, and he pushed Akechi onto his back, pressing his palm against the crotch of Akechi’s slacks, feeling out his hardness. Akechi stifled a moan as soon as Akira made contact and Akira felt his own cock twitch.

Undoing Akechi’s belt was a surprisingly difficult task for Akira, whose fingers were shaky and prone to tremors, but his want drove his determination and soon he had Akechi’s pants pushed down around his ankles.

When Akira released Akechi’s length, Akechi let out a long, shuddering breath. Akira took him into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head, and Akechi made a choked moan.

It was a wonderful noise, and one Akira definitely wanted to hear again, but he couldn’t see Akechi from here, and he found himself desperate to learn what kind of expressions Akechi could make. So with one hand, Akira gripped Akechi’s cock, hard and hot and slick with spit and pre-come, and he maneuvered himself up until he was lying next to Akechi.

Akira whispered, “Look at me.”

Akechi locked eyes with Akira. His lips were parted, and he was breathing in heavy gasps. It was the most disheveled Akira had ever seen Akechi; he could only hope to see him like this again. Then Akira started to move his hand, slowly, as if he was touching himself, and Akechi’s eyes fluttered closed.

“ _Aah…"_ Akechi gasped, thrusting up into Akira’s hand.

Akira only had a vague idea of what he should be doing, but every so often Akechi would make a soft little breathy moan and Akira just knew he wanted to hear more of that.

“God, Akechi…” Akira sighed, dipping down to suck on Akechi’s neck, tonguing against sensitive skin. Akechi was holding tightly to Akira, fingers digging into his back.

“A-Akira…” Akechi said, his voice raspy and low. “Already, I’m–”

“ _Look at me._ ”

Akira wouldn’t let Akechi look away. He wanted to see the moment Akechi came.

Akechi made a desperate, mewling sound, and clapped a hand over his mouth.

Akira batted his hand away and covered Akechi’s mouth with his own lips instead. Then Akechi was gasping into his mouth, his hips jerking wildly as Akira pumped him through his orgasm, his come spilling out onto Akira’s hand.

In time, Akechi loosened his grip on Akira’s back and started to relax against the futon. Akira continued to stroke Akechi slowly, languidly, letting Akechi catch his breath. For a time they just stared at each other, listening to the silence. Outside, the rain was still falling, slower now but still steady, pattering softly against the window pane.

After a moment, Akechi looked to the side and said, “The towel…”

Akira tilted his head. “Hmm?”

“On the floor,” Akechi said. He stretched his arm out, pointing towards the discarded cloth he had been using earlier that evening.

“Oh, right,” Akira said. He got to his feet and snatched the towel off the floor. He wiped off his hand and then walked back to the futon, handing the towel off to Akechi so he could clean up.

Akira’s brain was sleepy, but something stuck out to him, something he remembered. “You called me Akira.”

Akechi looked up, his eyes widening a little. “Ah? I suppose I did,” he said. “…Is that okay?”

“Can I call you Goro?” Akira asked.

“Uh, um… if you’d like…?”

“I would very much like,” Akira said, flopping back onto the futon, closing his eyes. He smiled. Sleepy contentment was seeping into his bones.

Akechi looked up towards the windows. “It’s getting late,” he commented. “Looks like I won’t be able to avoid the rain.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Akira said.

“I couldn’t impose,” Akechi said, in the same tone of voice that one might use to politely decline a dinner invitation.

“You wouldn’t,” Akira said. He opened his eyes, looking up at Akechi. “Please, stay.”

“You don’t want that,” he said. He did not sound confident.

“I do,” Akira replied. He sat up, placed a hand on Akechi’s shoulder and made him turn, made him look Akira in the eye. “I really would like you to stay with me, Goro.” He heard Akechi’s breath catch. “But only if you want to,” Akira added.

The silence that followed was so heavy that Akira very nearly retracted his request, when at last,

“Then I’d like to stay,” Akechi said. “If I may.”

“Of course you can.”

Akira finally did make good on his promise of giving Akechi some dry clothes, and he hung the still-damp garments up, with the hope they’d be dry in the morning. They ended up on the futon, bodies pressed together and arms awkwardly bent so that neither was in danger of falling off.

Akechi sighed and allowed himself to relax into the futon, and into Akira’s touch. “Thank you, Akira-kun… truly,” he murmured.

“What for?” Akira asked, talking into his pillow.

Akechi gave a sleepy little laugh, and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Akira decided to let it go; he could hardly keep his eyes open, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Akira drifted off with relative ease, and though his sleep was perfectly fitful, he still found himself roused awake at an unusual time. It was exceptionally dark and it took Akira a moment to realize what was amiss: a distinct lack of weight on the bed.

He could see the shadowy form of Akechi standing beside the futon, pulling on his jacket. Akira stirred, gently rustling the blanket, and the noise caught Akechi’s attention. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he said, in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Didn’t hear an alarm…” Akira mumbled, groping around for his phone. It was right around 4:00am.

Akechi hummed. “Would you believe that I wake up at this time every day?”

Akira blinked, his brain still foggy with sleep. “…nah.”

“Heh. Then you’d be correct,” Akechi said. Akira heard him sigh. “I was hoping to slip out early, before Leblanc opens.”

Akira pulled himself out from under his blanket and swung his legs over the edge of the futon. “You’re not staying?”

“Well, it wouldn’t do to have Sakura-san see me leaving,” Akechi said. “…you’d have to tell another lie.”

Akira smirked. “You’re so considerate,” he said.

He could hear Akechi hum in amusement. As he started to pull himself out of bed, Akechi quickly said, “Ah, you don’t need to get up. I can see myself out.”

Akira just shook his head. “Gotta lock up behind you. Boss’d be even more suspicious of an unlocked door.”

“Ah, of course. I didn’t consider that.”

The pair crept down the stairs into Leblanc, which was as quiet and gloomy as when they left it last night. They made their way to the door, Akira flipping the latch, and just before Akechi stepped outside, he stopped and turned to Akira.

“Thank you for letting me stay the night, Akira-kun,” Akechi said. And then, slowly, “I hope it won’t be the last.”

It was strange, but the way Akechi spoke made it sound more like an omen than a wish. But he didn’t have time to think on it; he needed to get back to sleep. He was going to have a very busy couple of days coming up.

 

* * *

 

“This is a new Renaissance for the Phantom Thieves!” Morgana declared, punching his little cat fist in the air. “And we couldn’t have done it without you, Haru!”

“I’m so thankful you all could help me. Truly, I am,” Haru said. Her eyes were sparkling behind her mask; it was the happiest Akira had ever seen her. He had nearly forgotten what it felt like to see the whole group in good spirits. Watching the group succeed under his guidance was the purest form of pride Akira had ever experienced.

“If you’ve said your piece to your father’s shadow, Haru,” Makoto said, “we should go ahead and take our leave. The Palace should collapse any minute now.”

“Let’s all go get sushi!” Futaba suggested. “I’m hungry, and besides, we still need to teach Haru all of our thief secrets!”

“If you’d have me, I’d love to spend some more time with everyone,” Haru said.

It was a unanimous decision. And really, after the successful mission, after reconciling things with Morgana, after welcoming Haru into their group, they were allowed to feel good about things, right?

Chattering all the way back, the Thieves did not notice Okumura’s shadow crumple to the ground and dissolve, right behind their backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited to get into the second half of the story, and I hope you all continue to enjoy! Your comments mean the world to me. :)


	5. October II

Exams were, if nothing else, an equalizing force in the universe. Exams did not care who you were or what you were going through. Exams simply were, and right now, Akira could appreciate such a simple nuisance. Uncomplicated. There were no surprises to be found here, except perhaps for the material he had skipped during a last-minute marathon study session.

Trying to ignore the harsh buzz of the room’s fluorescent lights, Akira stared at the paper in front of him. Please explain the history and purpose of the guillotine.

The guillotine was a French execution device designed to kill people as efficiently as possible.

Okumura’s Palace had been a guillotine, simple and unassuming until the blade came down on Okumura and shut down his mind, and now the blade was dangling above Akira’s neck, too. Overnight, the Phantom Thieves went from Internet sensations to public enemy number one. It was such an efficient execution that it must have been planned.

Akira tapped his pencil against his desk, agitated. He could sense Morgana inside his desk, probably glaring daggers at Akira right now, trying to silently compel him to focus on his exam.

“There’s no explanation other than that we’ve been set up. We have to acknowledge that fact,” Makoto had said the night before.

It wasn’t something they were eager to admit. Who wanted to admit to being successfully tricked? It was enough to make you question every thought you had. Is this really what I want? Or has someone made me feel this way?

“The only question is how far back does the set-up run?” Yusuke had asked.

“And who set us up in the first place,” Futaba added.

“And why,” Morgana said.

In fact they had dozens of questions, and they were woefully short on answers. The only thing everyone seemed to agree on was that there was another persona-user running around somewhere. As for who that could be, the Thieves were stumped.

Well, not _all_ of the Thieves. Akira had an idea.

As it turned out, Morgana did, too.

After they had tossed out a few names, Morgana sighed audibly and motioned for everyone’s attention. “Guys, I just thought of something. I kinda forgot about it until now, but…”

Everyone waited. Morgana had certainly caught their attention.

“Akira, Ann, Ryuji,” Morgana had said, “Do you remember the first time we met Akechi?”

“At the TV station? Sure,” Ann said.

Morgana nodded. “That day… I think he heard me talk.”

Akira had to fight to keep his face mildly curious, as if Morgana was telling him something surprising and new. Inwardly, he felt like he had swallowed a peach pit, heavy and hard, that was settling in stomach.

“For real?” Ryuji crossed his arms and leaned forward, eyes wide. “Wait, how? Like, are you sure?”

“Something about what he said…” Morgana said, his eyes narrowed in thought. “None of you said anything about Dome Town looking like a pancake. Right? It was just me?”

Ann screwed up her face in confusion, and Ryuji just stared at him blankly. Akira felt the pit in his stomach grow.

“No, I don’t think we– oh!” Ann gasped suddenly. “But Akechi said something about pancakes, didn’t he?”

Morgana nodded.

“I think I get it…” Ryuji said. “You’re sayin’ he had to have heard you talkin’, then?”

“Oh! And so if he could hear you talk, then he must have had a persona, right?” Futaba suddenly chimed in. Now the room was quietly buzzing with excitement.

Yusuke hummed, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “So you think he could be the one behind the mental shutdowns?”

“It’s a possibility,” Morgana said. “Like I said, I only just remembered this. It’s nothing definite, but…”

This was actually exactly where Akira had expected this conversation to go. Not where he’d hoped it would go, but where he expected. He took a deep breath to steady his voice and said, “It might also be coincidental.”

To his surprise, Haru nodded. “Akira-kun is right,” she said. “I don’t think we should jump to conclusions just yet. After all, I also had a persona before I met you.”

“It IS suspicious, though,” Makoto said. She was frowning. “On the other hand…”

“Makoto?” Morgana asked.

“Well… if he DOES have a persona, he might be a useful source of information,” she continued.

Little conversations were springing up all around the room now, either excited or worried or some combination of the two. Akira kept his mouth shut. It was as though the pit had sprouted a vine, and now it was curling around his ribcage, squeezing his chest tight, threatening to climb up his neck and steal away his breath. He felt ill.

“We have to be careful, though,” Yusuke said to the room at large. “If he is indeed an enemy of ours, then pressing him for information could backfire.”

“I thought of that,” Makoto said, nodding in agreement. “But at this juncture… we don’t really have any other leads, do we?”

This was another undeniable fact. With Okumura dead, they had no one to press for information about the black-masked persona user. Only another person familiar with the Meta-verse would be able to help them now, and the only person like that was…

“Okay, so let’s try talking to Akechi,” Futaba said. “Uh, does anyone know how to find him?”

“Well, he attends the same cram school as me,” Makoto began, “but he has been absent more and more frequently. I’ve no way to guarantee I’d be able to catch him. And even then, I’m not sure I could convince him to talk to us.” She sighed.

Ryuji huffed. “Dude, he gets coffee at Leblanc like… all the time. Why don’t we just corner him when he’s here?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t Boss think something weird was going on?” Ann asked.

Futaba made a noise of agreement. “Yeah, I don’t really want Sojiro to get suspicious…”

“Couldn’t we just talk up here?” Yusuke suggested.

“Uh, okay, but how the hell’re we gonna get Akechi to come up here?” Ryuji asked. “We don’t exactly know him.”

Akira swallowed hard, willing his voice to come out smooth and casual, like it always was. “…I can do it,” he said.

The room quieted and the other Thieves exchanged glances, first with each other and then with Akira himself. Akira sat up straight and met their eyes, one by one, sweeping his gaze across the room. “If you think it’s the best thing to do,” he continued, “then I can get him up here.”

“Don’t make it sound so ominous…” Ryuji muttered.

“Well, what do YOU think, Akira?” Ann asked. “You’re our leader, after all.”

Akira had been dreading that question. Even now, sitting at school, idly answering test questions, the thought made his chest hurt. But Akira wasn’t an idiot. It really was a sound plan – not the smartest, perhaps, but sound – and it was their best bet if they wanted to learn anything new. Best case scenario, Akechi would be unrelated to the mental shutdowns and willing to assist. Worst case scenario…

“I think Morgana’s right,” Akira said finally. He squashed his selfish thoughts and hid them away, and though he wasn’t able to look anyone in the eye, his voice was strong and unwavering – commanding. Like it should be. “It would be good to see if he knows anything,” he continued. “Besides, it’s my room. I’d be the least suspicious.”

Akira had gone on to explain that he usually saw Akechi at Leblanc on Tuesdays and Thursdays, a fact which Futaba backed up, and they had spent the rest of the night brainstorming questions and tactics. Well, the Thieves spent the night brainstorming; Akira had spent the rest of the night in a half-aware haze, trying to process the clashing emotions swirling around in his brain.

He finished his exam with time to spare, but Akira just flipped the paper over and set his head down on his desk. He ignored Morgana’s whispers to check his work.

First Akira tried to convince himself that nothing lasted forever, so really, this was inevitable. It was almost laughable how he had genuinely thought he’d be able to pull off this kind of a double life with no consequences. With Akechi investigating the Phantom Thieves, some kind of encounter was inevitable.

He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that there was almost no chance that anything he had with Akechi would survive the interrogation the other Thieves had planned. So he tried to convince himself that it was nice while it lasted, and it was time to move on.

Akira closed his eyes.

It had been too nice, so of course it couldn’t last. But he didn’t want to move on.

 

* * *

 

The next Tuesday had been a bust; the Thieves packed themselves up in Akira’s room all afternoon, but Akechi was a no-show. Thursday, however, they had better luck.

Yusuke was regaling the others with stories about what constituted ‘exams’ at Kosei when Morgana – their designated scout – came dashing up the stairs.

“He’s here! He just sat down!” Morgana said, panting slightly.

“Is everyone ready?” Makoto asked. Everyone sat up, attentive and serious, and Makoto nodded to Akira.

Akechi was in his usual spot at the bar. Sojiro had already served him, Akira noted, and he nearly went right back upstairs. It would be rude to interrupt him when he had barely started his drink, right?

Akira sighed. He hadn’t been this nervous to approach Akechi since the summer, and this time there was no flutter of anticipation to temper his anxiety, just a sickening dread.

Still, he forced himself to move, to take a long loop towards the bar so Akechi would have a chance to catch Akira in his periphery vision, and that is precisely what happened; Akechi turned his head just slightly to the left, and a smile graced his face when he recognized Akira. He tilted his mug in Akira’s direction as a greeting.

“Hey,” Akira said, leaning up against the counter next to Akechi. He continued on before his brain had a chance to catch up with his mouth. “Would you come upstairs with me for a bit?”

Akechi set his coffee down. “Certainly,” he said at once, and he began to get out of his seat, looking up at Akira as he did. “Ah, your expression…” he said slowly, and he smirked, just a bit. “This isn’t going where I want it to, is it?”

Akira felt a blush coming on and he ran a hand through his hair, trying to will it away. “Sorry,” he said. His voice sounded deflated.

Akechi laughed. “It’s fine. What can I help you with?”

Akira hesitated for a moment, idly playing with a tuft of his hair. He hadn’t really given this next bit much thought. “My friends kind of… want to interrogate you,” he said.

Akechi blinked. There was a distinct moment where his expression shifted from confusion into something harder to place – it was the look of being caught completely off-guard, like when your skates slip out from under you on an ice rink – but only for a moment. “What on earth for?” he asked.

“I’m not…” Akira started, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. “Listen, just… don’t hate me, okay?”

Akechi regarded him with an intense stare – not angry, but suspicious – that pierced Akira to his core and made him feel like he was bleeding out, but when he started towards the stairs, Akechi followed.

They walked in silence, crested the stairs, and stepped into Akira’s room. Everyone looked up and their chatter ceased as soon as the two boys appeared. Akira froze once he reached the landing, but Akechi stepped into the room with something close to confidence.

“Hello, everyone,” Akechi said. He had a perfectly unassuming smile on his face. “I heard you’d like to interrogate me?”

For a moment, no one spoke, and then Ryuji let out a short breath and rubbed his forehead. “Akira, dude…” he said.

“What?” Akira asked. He snapped out of his reverie and he strode into the room as well, stopping beside Akechi. “I never said _how_ I’d get him up here.”

“I guess… it doesn’t really matter,” Makoto said, sighing. “Would you care to sit?” she asked, gesturing towards a single empty chair directly across the table from where she was sitting.

Akechi took a moment to size up the room before he took the offered seat. Akira, meanwhile, wound his way around the group, settling on an empty spot behind Makoto’s shoulder where he could stand.

“Since Akira decided to go the blunt route, I suppose there’s no sense in beating around the bush,” Makoto began. She stood up and braced her arms on the table, directing the full force of her attention towards Akechi. “Akechi-kun. We want you to tell us everything you know about the Meta-verse.”

Akechi blinked. His eyebrows were furrowed, just barely, and his mouth formed a thin frown. “I’m sorry, Niijima-chan… I have to admit, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Makoto was undeterred. “I believe you do,” she said. “You know about Morgana, don’t you?”

“Kurusu’s cat?” Akechi asked. “I know of him, yes.”

Morgana, who had been sitting on the floor out of sight, suddenly leapt onto the table. “Don’t lie! You’re able to hear me!” he said.

Akechi jumped slightly in his chair, his eyes widening just a touch. “O-oh, and here he is?” he said, somewhat shaken.

Ryuji gave an accusatory yell. “Ha! There’s no way you would have reacted like that if you couldn’t hear what he said.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t be surprised if an animal suddenly jumped in front of you?” Akechi asked, turning his attention to Ryuji, who opened his mouth to retort.

“I… well…” Ryuji trailed off.

“Please!” Haru suddenly burst out, startling more than one of the other Thieves. She pushed her way to Makoto’s side. “…My father is dead. If you know anything about that place, you know why we can’t go to the police. I need to know what happened… so please!” She leaned over the table and looked pleadingly at Akechi. “If you know anything, please help us.”

This, more than anything else, seemed to resonate with Akechi. He averted his gaze from Haru and placed his chin in his hand. “I… suppose I may know what you’re talking about, actually. And I may be willing to help…” he slowly looked up. His face was perfectly neutral, without a trace of either anger or amusement, “If you’d be willing to admit to being the Phantom Thieves.”

His words fell like a heavy blanket over the room. Everyone was silent; Akira could distantly hear the murmur of customers down in Leblanc.

Makoto’s mouth fell open, and she struggled to regain her air of authority. “I… I don’t–” she began.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I don’t want to waste your time,” Akechi said, pulling out a folder. He opened it and tossed it down onto the table. Dozens of pictures spilled out. For the first time that night, Akira was genuinely surprised. He saw a picture of himself invisible from the waist down, just a torso floating in midair over the sidewalk, and the rest of the photos were equally incriminating.

“Actually, I’m not sure why you’d ask me for information about that place,” Akechi continued, his voice as soft and pleasant as always. “I’ve only known of its existence since September. If anything, I should be asking you, not the other way around, hmm?”

Akira thought things could not possibly get any worse than they already were, and yet, here they were. He didn’t particularly understand the meaning of the phrase ‘you could cut the tension with a knife’ until he was standing right here, suffocating in his attic. Someone was talking – Ann, maybe – but Akira couldn’t hear them.

_‘Damn it, Goro.’_

“Akira?”

He snapped back to attention and noticed that most of the room was looking at him. He turned to Makoto, who was the one who had spoken, and gave her a questioning look.

“What… what should we…?” she trailed off. Akira wasn’t sure where the conversation had gone – if it had gone anywhere at all – and so he said the only thing he could think of.

“Yeah. You’re right,” Akira shifted in place, looking towards Akechi. “It’s us.”

Around the room, Akira could hear gasps of surprise, even a few grumbles of anger, but it wasn’t as though they could take back his words. For a split second, Akechi looked up at Akira; Akechi’s eyes seemed distant, like a void. Then Akechi closed his eyes and gave a little half-smile. “Thank you, Kurusu-kun,” he said. “I appreciate your honesty.”

Akira wished he could say the same.

“Okay, so like… what do you even want from us?” Ann asked, leaning in from her spot near the sofa. Her voice had a sharp bite to it.

“Please, I’m – I’m not interested in fighting with you,” Akechi said, holding his hands up. He lowered his eyes. “There’s something I’d like to do, and I would require your help. But given our history, I… assumed you wouldn’t be willing to listen to me without sufficient motivation.”

“What are your demands?” Makoto asked.

Akechi frowned. “Niijima-chan… actually, I’m interested in triggering a change of heart in Sae-san,” he said.

Makoto couldn’t hide her surprised gasp. “Sis…”

“Mm,” Akechi nodded. “You’ve noticed too, haven’t you?” he asked. “How Sae-san has changed…”

“Is that true, Makoto?” Haru asked, placing her hand on Makoto’s shoulder.

Makoto took a moment to steady herself. “It is. I’ve known about Sis’s palace for some time.” Her voice came out weak, a far cry from earlier. “I don’t know when her palace formed, but I’ve noticed a significant change in her disposition lately.” She paused for a moment. “Ever since she was assigned to head up the Phantom Thieves investigation.”

“The higher-ups are pressuring Sae to make an arrest,” Akechi explained. He took a deep breath and placed her hands on the table. “This is my proposal. I know that you aren’t the people behind the mental shutdown cases,” he said, and Akira raised an eyebrow. “That is why I’d like to work with you to change Sae-san’s heart. I know this is a lot to ask of someone who has made a name for himself opposing you, but…”

“All right,” Akira said. His voice sounded gravely, like he had just woken up and wasn’t quite used to speaking again.

Several pairs of eyebrows shot up. “Wait, Akira–“

“Are you sure?”

“Any plan is better than no plan,” Akira said. He could tell the others were hesitant, and it was possible he was abusing his position as leader a little bit here, but it was better this than to sit and stagnate without a lead.

“Then I look forward to working with you,” Akechi said. He held out his hand, which Akira accepted; it felt like shaking hands with a stranger. Then Akechi excused himself, and left the Thieves to stew in awkward silence. Akira was grateful for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“What the hell, man!” Ryuji barked, throwing his hands up. “How did _we_ end up bein’ the ones who got blackmailed here?”

Makoto stood up. “We… should take the evening to think about all this,” she said. “We can regroup tomorrow after school. Is that okay with everyone?”

The group collectively agreed, and soon the only three left in the attic were Akira, Morgana, and Futaba, who was sitting on Akira’s sofa, her legs pulled up to her chest. Akira sighed, and Morgana looked up at him.

“Something on your mind, Akira?”

There was something on Akira’s mind, and it was burning a hole in his chest; he hated that he had noticed something that should have been perfectly innocuous. “Gor…” He bit his tongue and started again. “Akechi’s story doesn’t add up.”

“Ah, so you noticed too,” Morgana said.

Futaba frowned. “Noticed what?”

Akira didn’t say anything, so Morgana took the lead. “Well, if Akechi could hear me talk back in June, but he claims he awoke to his persona in September…” he said, trailing off.

“Oh. Ohhhh…” Futaba’s eyes opened big behind her glasses as realization hit her. “You mean he’s lying about his persona?”

“When he got his persona, anyway,” Akira corrected. Not that it was a terribly big difference; it was still a lie. “But the fact that he pretended not to have a persona… does that necessarily mean anything?”

“Well, not by itself,” Morgana admitted. “But he’s definitely suspicious. So we need to gather some more intel.”

At the word ‘intel’, Futaba perked up. “You want me to do something?” she asked.

“That’s exactly right,” Morgana said, nodding. “For a celebrity, Akechi is incredibly secretive. But if we could spy on him in some way…”

“So what, you want me to… bug his house or something?” Futaba asked.

“N-no!” Morgana exclaimed, his fur bristling up. “No, no. Isn’t that sort of illegal?”

“Um, I mean…” Futaba shrugged, fiddling with a few strands of hair, “Honestly, any kind of spying is probably going to be illegal, so…”

“Agh… well, I guess that’s unavoidable…” Morgana said. He looked at Akira. “Akira? Do you have any ideas?”

Akira took a moment to respond. “I think bugging his house is a little excessive.”

“We’re in agreement there…” Morgana said, sighing. “I was thinking more if we could spy on his phone calls?”

“You really think that’s necessary?” Akira asked, and Morgana sighed.

“Akira…” he said. His voice was gentle now. “I’m sorry. I know this must be hard for you. Harder than for the rest of us.”

For a brief moment, Akira thought his heart stopped.

“Oh yeah, you and him get along pretty well, right?” Futaba asked.

“Oh,” Akira said. His heart was beating again. “Yeah. We do.” He sighed. “Sorry. I’ll try to keep my own feelings out of it.”

“It’s always hard to be emotionally removed from something like this,” Morgana said solemnly. “It just means we need to gather concrete evidence. You never know; we might be totally off-base.”

Futaba nodded. “The best way to find out is to bug his phone. Then we’ll know for sure. Speaking of which... It’s not impossible, but I’d have to put something directly on his phone..."

Surprisingly, Futaba did not sound worried. In fact, she sounded completely giddy. “Oh?” Morgana asked, smiling. “Futaba, you sound like you have a plan.”

She grinned. “I’ve got an idea. It’s risky, but you’ve gotta make bold moves sometimes, right?”

“Right!” Morgana agreed. “Okay Futaba, just let us know what we can do, okay?”

“Okay!” Futaba chirped. She leapt to her feet, her hands curling into fists. “Ahh, I’m getting excited! I’m gonna go, okay? Byeee!”

Before Akira could say anything, she was bounding down the stairs and out of sight.

 

* * *

 

Akira had trouble getting to sleep that night. There was so much he didn’t say – couldn’t say, not in front of everyone – and it was churning in his brain, no matter how hard he tried to relax. It was late – almost after midnight – but nonetheless he pulled out his phone and started at Akechi’s name for a little while. What did he even want to say?

 **> >Akira:** If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry.

He knew he didn’t owe Akechi an apology; if anything, it was the other way around, since all of Akira’s secrets were out in the open now.

To his surprise, Akechi responded fairly quickly.

 **> >Goro:** There’s no need to apologize.  
**> >Goro:** After all, I’ve known you were a Phantom Thief for quite some time, and I never said anything.  
**> >Goro:** So I’d say I owe you an apology as well.

Akira felt a flutter in his stomach.

 **> >Akira:** You’re not angry?  
**> >Goro:** You’re stealing my lines again.  
**> >Goro:** But no, I’m not. I understand why you didn’t say anything.  
**> >Goro:** And I truly am glad to be working with you.

Ah, that’s right. Akira had barely even thought about it. How strange. He assumed his two lives would cross at some point, but he hadn’t imagined they would converge into one.

 **> >Akira:** I can’t wait to see your costume.  
**> >Goro:** Ha, that’s your first thought?  
**> >Goro:** Well, I suppose it’s not quite fair that I already know your costume when you don’t know mine, is it?  
**> >Akira:** Extremely unfair.  
**> >Akira:** You need to make it up to me.  
**> >Goro:** Did you have something in mind?  
**> >Akira:** I’m sure I could think of something.  
**> >Akira:** Don’t forget, I’m your leader now.  
**> >Goro:** I assure you, I am keenly aware of that fact.

Akira felt another flutter, a bit lower down this time. His phone buzzed again.

 **> >Goro:** You’re certainly something.  
**> >Goro:** A thief who fell for the detective working to bring him to justice.

Akira smirked.

 **> >Akira:** Like you’re one to talk.  
**> >Akira:** I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be into bad boys, Goro.

There was a longer pause after this text; Akira wished he could see the face Akechi was making.

 **> >Goro:** We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?  
**> >Akira: **We certainly are.

Akira smiled. This was nice; it was almost like nothing had changed.

Nothing, except Akira knew Akechi was willfully lying to him now. He just didn't know why.


	6. November I

The first time Akira stepped into the Meta-verse alongside Akechi felt like a surreal dream. Not only was Sae’s palace stunningly opulent – and quite the departure from Sae’s shadow, who stood apart from the shiny, decadent casino she commanded with her sharp lines and black clothing – but Akechi’s bright white uniform and blood-red mask looked like something out of a faerie tale.

Fights felt even more tense than usual. No one disobeyed orders, of course, but Akira could see the uneasy way the other Thieves interacted with Akechi; tiny hesitations during a baton pass, or a flash of fear in their eyes when he readied a spell, as if afraid he would turn his persona on them at any moment.

No one complained when Akira called for a rest day after their first infiltration. The others were plenty tired, and Akira needed some time to clear his head. As such, it was somewhat surprising when Futaba walked into Leblanc the next day and made a beeline for Akira, who was lounging in one of Leblanc’s booths, lazily glancing over a few textbooks.

She barely even greeted Sojiro in the process, and when she stopped in front of Akira, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled out her phone and quickly typed something out. Akira felt his phone buzz.

 **> >Futaba:** i need to talk to you and mona upstairs

She looked deadly serious. They quickly fumbled out an excuse for Sojiro, and together they headed upstairs. Morgana, who had been napping on Akira’s sofa, perked up when he heard them enter the attic.

“Futaba?” he asked, stifling a yawn. “What’s up?”

Futaba sat down on Akira’s sofa and pulled out her laptop. She seemed quite restless, her fingers tapping against her leg incessantly while she waited for her computer to boot up. “You know the job you gave me?” she asked.

“Oh! The bug?” Morgana asked. He hopped up onto the table and sat down right beside her laptop, curling his tail around the screen. “Did you get something?”

Futaba nodded, and Akira hesitantly took a seat next to her. This, too, was a surprise; he hadn’t expected to have results so quickly. It had barely been over a week. Besides that, Futaba’s expression had him worried. Her face was blank – no smile, no furrowed brow – a surprisingly good poker face, for Futaba.

She pulled up a folder full of sound files, each labeled with a date and time. The earliest was from the same day Futaba planted the bug – October 26th – and the most recent was from earlier in the day. There were nearly two dozen files, most of them less than a minute long.

“I didn’t want to show you anything until I was really, really sure,” Futaba said. Her voice was notably strained. “There’s a few, but… I’m just gonna play this one.”  
  
She picked a file that was labeled 10.27 – 22:34, one of the longer files. That was the day after they had first scoped out Sae’s palace and decided on an infiltration plan, as Akira recalled. The audio crackled to life:

[“Hello, Sir. I apologize for the late call, but I wanted to update you on today’s events. I had to confront the Phantom Thieves a bit ahead of schedule.”]

There was a pause in the recording; evidently, Futaba’s program was only able to capture one half of the conversation.

[“…No, it’s fine. It was unexpected, but it worked out quite well. They agreed to allow me into the group.”]

Akira had learned about this, once. He tried to remember what Kawakami had said about phone calls… that what you heard wasn’t anyone’s voice in particular, just a digitized recreation of the syllables, but the listener would fill in the blanks with their memories: the little cadences, verbal ticks – things that you associated with the speaker.

[“Yes, we visited Sae-san’s palace for the first time the other day. Now that I’ve had a chance to survey the layout, I believe it would be easy enough to take a police force into her palace, provided they had a guide.”]

Akira’s heart sank; it was undoubtedly Akechi’s voice.

[“Yes. Sir, I did want to ask, are we still going with the original plan? The… the staged suicide?”]

There was a lengthy pause in the recording. Akira felt needle-sharp pain flickering over his skin.

[“Yes, I know the room. I was wondering, though– …no. Sir.” Akechi’s voice took on a curt, formal tone. “I…” – he cleared his throat – “That is, I understand. Once their leader is in custody, you can trust that I shall handle the rest.”]

The recording stopped abruptly. The silence it left felt particularly heavy.

“This is more serious than we thought,” Morgana said solemnly. “We’re going to need to tell the others about this, and soon.”

“Mm,” Akira nodded, noncommittal. He felt leaden, arms heavy, thoughts whirling. Wasn’t today supposed to have been about clearing his head?

“Akira, could you send a text out and see when everyone can meet?” Morgana asked. “Today, if possible… or tomorrow, if we have to. We aren’t going to have a lot of time…”

Morgana started to pester Futaba about the contents of the other audio files, while Akira mechanically drafted a text and sent it out to the other Thieves. In short order his phone was filled with replies, all promising to come to Leblanc as soon as they could. Akira told Morgana and Futaba as such.

Morgana was already discussing strategies when Futaba suddenly piped up, “Hey, Mona!” There was an unnaturally squeaky tone to her voice. “Go ahead downstairs and wait for the others, okay? I wanna talk to Akira for a sec.”

Morgana fixed her with a look, and she gave him a sweet smile in return. He shrugged – or did the cat-equivalent of a shrug – and trotted off downstairs, leaving them alone.

Akira listened to the soft padding noise Morgana made as he walked down the stairs, and slowly turned his eyes to Futaba. Unlike earlier, she was clearly struggling to keep a straight face now; she was looking at the ground, her arms clasped behind her back, with her eyebrows furrowed in thought. Silent seconds ticked by.

“Futaba?” Akira asked, gently prompting her to go ahead and speak her mind.

“A-Akira… when I was tapping into Akechi’s calls, I decided to poke around on his phone a little bit.” She paused, wincing hard, like she was bracing herself for a physical blow. “And I… I saw his text messages with you.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Futaba looked up at him. To his surprise, her eyes were wet and glassy, like she was trying not to cry. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry – I just, I thought that since we were spying on him it would be best to get as much information as possible and I—”

“It’s okay, Futaba,” Akira interrupted, placing a hand on her shoulder. He was, frankly, caught completely off-guard by her reaction; she seemed more worried that she had to deliver bad news than anything else. “You did good,” he said.

The last bit of Futaba’s strength crumbled, and she threw herself onto Akira, hugging him tightly. “I didn’t want it to be true!” she wailed. “I hoped we were wrong so badly. Because then I wouldn’t have to tell you the truth. That he was… was…”

“It’s not your fault, Futaba,” Akira said. He wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back. He felt like he was having an out of body experience, but comforting Futaba was grounding him.

“I know, I know,” Futaba said. She was calming down now, sniffling just a little in between her words. “I just… I don’t understand.” She wiped her eyes dry and pulled back from Akira. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

Akira sighed, and leaned back against the sofa cushions. “Yeah,” he said, eventually. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

“You really think this plan is gonna work, Makoto?” Ryuji asked.

The Thieves had assembled with record speed, and within an hour they were all crammed in Leblanc’s attic. Ryuji and Ann had stopped by the convenience store on their way, purchasing an array of late-night snacks for their consumption while they piled around Futaba’s laptop.

Futaba played the audio recording for the rest of the Thieves, to a mix of shocked and furious reactions. They then laboriously poured through every audio file on the computer – accompanied by plenty of commentary, of course – and soon they had pieced together what they believed to be a complete picture of Akechi’s master plan.

“I think it’s perfectly sound,” Makoto replied. “It’s risky, but…”

“Nah, it’s perfect.” Ann cut her off, waving her hand. “Like, he’s got this whole plan, right? We’re just gonna let him do most of the work! That’s what makes it so great.”

Yusuke took a moment to swallow a particularly large mouthful of instant noodles, and said, “I believe the odds of the plan succeeding to be about one to three.”

“Those aren’t good odds!” Morgana yelped. “I can’t believe you’d consider putting our Leader in this kind of danger…”

“Ahh, Mona-chan!” Haru scooped up Morgana from the table and pushed him, struggling, into her lap. “You have to be confident! Mistakes happen once you start hesitating!”

“Haru-chan is right,” Makoto said. “As long as we act with conviction, we’ll surely succeed. Right, Akira?”

Akira was only half paying attention. “Hmm? Ah, yeah. It’ll be fine,” he said.

“Whatever you say,” Ryuji said, with a clearly unconvinced sigh. He took a bite of his food and then turned suddenly to Akira. “Hey, Akira,” he said, his tone notably brighter, “you think Iwai would buy us some booze?”

“Probably.”

“Akira!” Makoto snapped. “And Ryuji – what does that have to do with anything?”

“Listen,” he said, pointing his chopsticks at Makoto, “If we don’t pull off this plan perfectly, Joker might die, and then WE might die. And if I’m abouta die, I wanna have tried alcohol at least once in my life. Okay?”

“We aren’t going to die!” Makoto retorted. Her hands were curled into fists.

“Right, right, sheesh!” Ryuji said, holding his hands up in innocence. “Then – maybe I want to calm my nerves, okay? I hate thinkin’ about letting that son of a bitch point a gun at Akira.”

“At his _cognition_ of Akira,” Makoto chided.

“Yeah, if it works!” Ryuji countered, and at last Ann stepped in – literally, physically got up in between them.

“Guys! Would you chill out?” she said. “Have some faith in Akira, geez.” Ann crossed her arms, and leaned back in thought. “…Though, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have some kind of party before we have to do it. I’ve kinda got the jitters thinking about it, too.”

“Right? That’s what I’m sayin’!” Ryuji grinned. Makoto just sighed and slumped down onto the table.

“Guys, it’s after midnight,” Morgana said. “Let’s table things here for the night, okay? The important thing is we’re all on the same page now.”

No one disagreed, and soon Akira found himself alone and laying flat on his futon, arms wrapped tightly around his pillow, clutching it to his chest.

Morgana hopped up on the bed beside him. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Akira was turned a dull, tired eye towards Morgana. “It’s about Akechi, right?”

“…yeah,” Akira mumbled into his pillow.

“You don’t hate him, do you,” Morgana said.

“No,” Akira replied, and to himself, he added, _‘practically the opposite at this point.’_

Morgana’s ears drooped. “Oh, Akira…” he said softly, curling up beside Akira’s arm. “Hey, let’s get some sleep, okay? We can talk more in the morning.”

 

* * *

 

Their next infiltration was… tense, to say the least. Despite Akira’s warnings to act like they knew nothing, some of the Thieves were barely hiding their resentment towards Akechi. The whole team was on edge for one reason or another, and the shadows – strong and plentiful – were not helping matters.

In particular, Makoto’s reaction time was notably slower than usual, and after she took a third physical blow directly to the face, Akira had her swap back to the reserve team. Not without hesitation, he called Akechi to take her place. He could feel Ann and Ryuji tense up when Akechi stepped into formation beside them.

After one particular battle, Akira heard Ryuji mutter, “I don’t like this,” under his breath.

“I know. I don’t like it either, but it’s the only choice we have,” Ann whispered back.

“Besides, it’s the best place to keep an eye on him,” Morgana added, from his spot by Ann’s feet. “If he tries something, our Leader can easily take him down.”

Akira snuck a glance at Akechi, who was lagging a bit behind the main team. His eyes were downcast.

Akira couldn’t wait to be done with this palace. The treasure couldn’t come soon enough.

 

* * *

 

It was early evening by the time the group left the Meta-verse and returned to Yongen-Jaya and Leblanc. They gathered their things, said their goodbyes, and were in the process of parting ways for the evening when Akira felt someone tap his shoulder.

“Akira-kun,” It was Akechi, standing just to his right. “Could I have a moment of your time?”

Futaba and Morgana exchanged a wary look, first with each other and then with Akira, but he waved them off and motioned for Akechi to follow him outside.

They stopped a few feet away from Leblanc. “I… I’m sorry to trouble you with this,” Akechi began. He refused to make eye contact with Akira, as if he was simply standing next to Akira and speaking in his vicinity, rather than speaking to him. “I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Akira stared. Even accounting for the fact that they had just returned from a lengthy trip in the Meta-verse, Akechi looked exhausted; to that end, Akira could hardly remember the last time Akechi seemed perfectly well.

Akira felt something crawl down his spine. “Did something happen?” he asked.

“No,” Akechi said. He ground his shoe against the gravel, and then added, “Well… sort of. It’s… difficult to explain.”

In the back of his mind, Akira considered the possibility that he was being lured into a trap. But he liked to believe he could tell when Akechi was lying.

“Morgana…” Akira mused, casting a glance back at the café. He and Akechi had gotten fairly lucky so far, but given recent developments, it was unlikely he’d be able to shoo Morgana from his room for a whole night.

Without missing a beat, Akechi said, “I have an apartment.”

He volunteered that information so quickly and earnestly that Akira found himself saying, “Wait for me,” and hurrying back into Leblanc before his brain could catch up with his body. He breezed past Futaba and Sojiro, giving them only a distracted wave, to go upstairs and gather a few necessities, which he stuffed into his bag. He was back downstairs within a minute.

“Hey, Boss,” Akira said, slowing his pace and walking over to the counter. “I, uh, I forgot to mention this earlier, but I’m not going to be home tonight.” Sojiro gave him a deeply skeptical look. “I… my doctor asked me to help her with a sleep study. I’ll be staying overnight at the clinic.”

“Huh, really? First I’ve heard of it…” Morgana said. Futaba nodded, and looked curiously at Akira.

“Sleep study, huh? She’s not going to make you take any weird drugs or anything, is she?” Sojiro asked.

Akira laughed in what he hoped was a casual and reassuring way. “No, she’s just going to monitor my heart rate and my blood pressure, things like that… I just have to be at the clinic, you know. Where the equipment is.”

“…well, okay. The clinic’s hardly far and I know Takemi well enough. She’s got a good head,” Sojiro said. Akira felt a dozen pounds of weight leave his shoulders.

“You know what that means, Mona? Sleepover at my house!” Futaba said, cheerfully scooping Morgana up into her arms.

“Oh, come on!” Morgana yelped, struggling to escape Futaba’s grasp.

Akira swallowed the guilty feeling in his throat and left Leblanc. He found Akechi waiting precisely where Akira left him, and when Akechi saw him coming, he turned to lead the way to the train station.

A thought struck Akira while on the train, and he quickly pulled out his phone.

 **> >Akira:** Hey, if anyone asks, I’m doing a sleep study for you tonight, okay?  
**> >Tae Takemi:** Hmm, sounds like trouble to me.  
**> >Tae Takemi:** Is this going to implicate me in any criminal wrongdoings?  
**> >Akira:** No, nothing like that.

Akira hesitated for a moment. Well, Takemi had already figured out he was a Phantom Thief, but she also wasn’t directly involved in this whole mess. Maybe, for once, the truth would be okay…

 **> >Akira:** I’m going to stay with my boyfriend tonight but we’re not really public yet.  
**> >Akira:** So I need an excuse.  
**> >Tae Takemi:** So my diagnosis was right after all, hmm?  
**> >Tae Takemi:** You are lovesick.

Akira sighed.

 **> >Akira:** Nothing slips past you, Doc.  
**> >Tae Takemi:** You’re right about that.  
**> >Tae Takemi:** Very well, I’ll be your cover for tonight.  
  
**> >Tae Takemi:** But you’ll owe me for this.

 

* * *

 

They ended up at a small apartment complex somewhere just outside of Shibuya. Akechi unlocked his door and stepped inside, flipping a light switch. “You can set your things anywhere,” he said, setting his own case down on a circular table just to the left of the door. Akira decided to follow suit.

Akechi’s apartment wasn’t particularly large, but it was nice enough for what a single person could afford. The walls were painted a neutral beige, and they were very sparsely decorated. From where he was standing, Akira could see a mirror hanging on the wall to his right, but nothing else. The floor was a dark stained wood, although – Akira shifted his weight, and felt the floor give just a bit – it was likely laminate, not real wood.

There was a small kitchen just past the table on the left, and that was where Akechi had gone. He was standing in front of the refrigerator, and Akira followed him just in time to see Akechi slump his shoulders in defeat.

“I didn’t plan to have company today,” he said. “I’m sorry. I have nothing prepared…”

Akira peered over Akechi’s shoulder and looked into the fridge. It was nowhere near full, and there wasn’t much in the way of prepared food, but he had plenty of ingredients; eggs, milk, a drawer full of green objects that Akira couldn’t quite identify, and a wrapped packet of something that might have been meat. There were no leftovers, and nothing looked remotely expired.

“Can I cook?” Akira asked.

Akechi looked at him. “…you’re my guest,” he protested, but there was no fight in his voice.

“You’re letting me stay, so let me cook,” Akira said.

Though he seemed to be mentally wrestling with himself, Akechi relented. “Very well. If you insist.”

Akira stooped down to survey the contents of the fridge more thoroughly, and Akechi pulled a chair away from the table and dragged it into the kitchen, so he could help Akira without getting in his way.

Akira made omelettes. It wasn’t exactly the best dinner food, but it was easy and quick and – most importantly – Akechi had the ingredients. He cooked in silence, and once it was ready, they took their food to the living room and sat down side-by-side on a small grey sofa.

“Do you want to talk?” Akira asked.

Akechi shook his head. His lips were closed and pressed thin. Instead, they ate quietly while it continued to grow dark outside. The only light was the overhead light back in the kitchen, and Akechi did not seem inclined to turn on a lamp, so they let the night creep into the living room.

Abruptly Akechi decided to stand up, startling Akira. He picked up his dinner plate, and motioned to take Akira’s as well. “Ah… thank you. For cooking,” he said, his voice coming out just a little shaky, as he took the plate from Akira’s hands.

Akira watched him walk. Ever step seemed deliberate but labored, making his footsteps feel heavy. When the dishes were properly stowed away, Akechi returned to the living room, but instead of taking his seat again, he opened the door across from the sofa where Akira was still sitting. He threw a look back at Akira before he disappeared inside.

Akira sat still, staring at the tiny sliver of darkness the open door revealed. Something was definitely wrong – yet, he didn’t get the sense that his life was in danger.

Morgana would hate him for this.

Akira stood up, briskly crossed the room, and tapped on the door, which swung open on silent hinges.

Akechi hadn’t turned on a light in this room, either, so Akira had to rely on the leftover sunlight from the room’s single window for illumination. The only things Akira could clearly identify were a bed underneath the window, and Akechi standing a few feet in front of the door.

“I thought you might have decided to leave,” Akechi said. His voice was hardly louder than a whisper, but the apartment was so quiet that Akira could hear him loud and clear.

Akira gently pushed the door shut and stepped farther into the room. “Why would I leave? I just got here,” he said, equally quiet – he couldn’t help but mimic Akechi’s volume.

Akechi gave a short, hoarse laugh. “I wouldn’t have blamed you,” he said. “It’s what I would have done.”

They were just about the same height, Akira noticed, with Akechi being maybe a hair taller. “I don’t follow,” Akira said.

“It’s nothing,” Akechi said, and he didn’t elaborate any further.  
  
The air in the room felt charged. It was familiar to Akira and it sent his pulse racing again, and when he took a step closer, Akechi grabbed him by the shirt, his hands curling into fists in the fabric. Akira shivered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a forceful kiss, and even though he anticipated this, he felt breathless, caught unaware.

There was no hesitation to the way Akechi moved, tugging Akira towards the bed and toppling down onto the mattress alongside him. Akechi nipped at Akira’s lower lip with his teeth, harder than Akira expected, almost painful, and held tight to Akira’s hips, fingers digging into skin.

Even as he felt a shiver of heat course through his body, Akira couldn’t shake the feeling from before, that something was wrong. There was something desperate about the way Akechi moved; not desperate with want, but desperate like someone trying to hold onto a semblance of normalcy.

Akechi pulled out of their kiss, breathing hard. “Don’t hold back with me,” he said, his lips brushing against Akira’s mouth. His voice was breathy but firm, like he was giving Akira a command.

Akira felt deeply uneasy, and tried to slow their pace. He took Akechi’s face in both his hands and kissed him with a slow, languid energy, gently brushing his tongue across Akechi’s lips.

Akechi growled somewhere low and deep in his throat, and pushed his hips hard against Akira’s – who had to bite back a moan – before grabbing him roughly by the shoulders and pushing him back, holding him at arm’s length.

“I said don’t hold back,” Akechi repeated. His voice was louder and sharp around the edges now. “I know you can be rough, Akira, so show me!”

Akira felt a chill creep into his bones. He couldn’t see a trace of anything in Akechi’s eyes. In the dim blue nightlight, Akechi looked ghastly pale, shadows framing his face so that he was all but glaring at Akira.

Unbidden, a thought came to him: _‘This is my murderer.’_

All at once, Akira straightened his back and hardened his eyes. “On your back,” he said. He was surprised by his tone, sharp and commanding – Joker’s voice, the voice he used when he was giving orders in battle – and it had an immediate and obvious effect on Akechi, who gave a full-body shudder.

“On. Your back.” Akira repeated, nudging Akechi backwards onto the mattress and clamoring up onto him, until he was straddling his waist.

For a moment, Akira just sat there, looking down at Akechi; breathless, shirt unbuttoned and falling loosely to his sides, bracing himself on the futon with both arms, just barely holding himself up. He looked up, dusty brown hair mussed and falling in front of his eyes. A pang of guilt started to well up inside Akira’s chest.

_‘I don’t care…’_

Akira dipped down and pressed his lips to Akechi’s neck, kissing gently. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. He heard Akechi’s breathing hitch with a surprised and shuddering gasp, and he continued to trail soft kisses all along Akechi’s collarbone, taking his time, rolling his hips gently against Akechi’s. “You feel so good,” he said into Akechi’s neck.

Akechi pushed himself up so that he was nearly sitting. He was flushed, but the sharp edges on his face were starting to soften. “A-Akira, what are you—?”

Akira took Akechi’s chin in his hand, brushing a thumb across his lip. “I want to make you feel good, Goro,” he said.

Akechi’s eyes went wide. “Th… that’s not what I–”

Akira cut him off with a kiss. “I know,” he said. “I know. But, I just…” he pressed another kiss against the corner of Akechi’s mouth, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t parse the look on Akechi’s face, and he didn’t want to try; Akira worked his way down Akechi’s torso, his fingers fluttering over soft skin, until he reached his belt, his hand hovering just over the clasp. He turned his gaze towards Akechi again, who was watching him, wide-eyed. Akira did not have to ask; Akechi simply nodded.

With a trembling hand, Akira tugged off Akechi’s belt and nudged his pants down, then the thin fabric of his boxers, freeing Akechi’s cock. He wrapped his hand around its base.

“Goro,” Akira managed to say. Akechi turned his eyes to him, one hand over his mouth, one grasping the bed sheet, as Akira slowly took Akechi’s length into his mouth.

He wanted Akechi to watch him.

He wanted to so thoroughly overwhelm Akechi’s senses that his brain would go fuzzy, that he could forget whatever was troubling him, even if only for a few minutes.

Akira could already taste pre-come, swiping his tongue delicately over the head, before he sank down until he could hardly breathe, taking in as much of Akechi as he could. Distantly, Akira could hear Akechi repeating his name in a soft, breathy moan of a voice, and he started to move his hips, pushing into Akira’s mouth.

Akira sighed through his nose, holding tight to Akechi’s thighs, matching the pace of his hips.

 _‘Yes,’_ Akira thought, his mind swimming, _‘yes, keep going.’_

He tightened his lips and quickened his pace. He hoped Akechi’s mind had gone blank, that the only things he could focus on now were Akira’s fingers against his thighs and mouth around his cock. He was dizzy and breathless but he kept up his pace, encouraged by the way Akechi was chanting his name, and by the warm fluttering feeling in his chest.

Unexpectedly, Akechi’s hips snapped forward and he let out a moan, still very much restrained but louder than any sound he had made that night, and he came into Akira’s mouth. Akira held tight – he could cough later, he told himself; he wasn’t going to choke – and sucked and swallowed until Akechi’s hips stopped moving and came to rest on the bed.

Akira sat up, coughing surreptitiously into his hand to clear his throat. Akechi was lying still, with one arm thrown up over his eyes. His breathing still seemed labored – unexpectedly so – and he was making a quiet, choked-sounding noise that took Akira a moment to identify.

Akechi was _crying_.

Akira thought his heart might stop. He scrambled up to Akechi’s side. “I’m sorry,” he began immediately, but Akechi shook his head.

“Not you,” Akechi said quickly, taking a shaky breath. “J-just give me a minute.” He sat up and let his arm fall to his side, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand.

It was the second time in as many days that Akira thought he was dreaming. He could hardly have imagined an Akechi this vulnerable, this close to falling apart, and now here he was, leaning against Akira, desperately trying not to cry.

“Why me?” Akechi asked suddenly, breaking Akira out of his reverie. He must have had a blank look on his face, because Akechi clarified: “Why do you like me, Akira?”

Ah.

“Because…” Akira began, turning until he could clearly look Akechi in the eye, “You’re special to me.” It was hard to explain. Even after everything that had come to light this past week, Akira still felt the same way about Akechi. He knew it wasn't rational. But here he was. He reached out and brushed a hand against Akechi's cheek, and said, “I couldn’t not love you.”

Akechi took a sharp breath. It seemed to be more than he could handle; Akira felt something warm and wet hit his thumb.

He thought he had done enough talking for now, so Akira stayed quiet and wrapped his arms around Akechi’s waist, pulling him close. After a moment – a second, really – of hesitation, Akechi returned the hug and buried his head in Akira’s shoulder, shaking, while hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

Even now, he was trying to save face. Akira pretended not to hear his sobs.

The deep blue shadows in the corners of the room grew long, swallowing the walls, until Akira felt like he was floating in a void. He lost track of time. All he could think of was: If he just knew who Akechi had been talking to in those conversations… but he couldn’t just ask. If Akechi knew the Thieves were spying on him, it might destroy any modicum of trust built up between them until now.

Maybe, though, he could convince Akechi to ask for help. He wouldn’t have believed it until now, but here, in this moment, it seemed possible.

At some point, Akechi’s breathing steadied and his composure returned, and he lifted his head from Akira’s shoulder. “Damn it,” he said, bitter laughter mingling with his choked sobs, “I didn’t want you to see…”

“Can’t see anything,” Akira replied. “Too dark.”

“Ha… damn it, Akira…” Akechi sighed, and at last a bit of life returned to his voice. There was a flicker of a smile on his lips.

Akira felt his shoulders relax. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"I'm... tired," Akechi said. His head drooped down until his forehead was resting against Akira's shoulder. "Akira... let's go to sleep."

 

* * *

 

Akechi’s bed was fairly firm and a little larger than Akira’s futon, and it smelled like clean linen and paper and sweat, just like the person lying next to him. Akira was holding Akechi close, coaxing him into relaxing against Akira's touch. His body felt warm and heavy and so comfortable, so perfectly at home, that he could barely keep his eyes open for more than a minute. Right as Akira began to doze off, however, he heard Akechi's voice.

“Akira?” 

Hazy with sleep, Akira managed to make a questioning sound. There was a long moment of silence, and Akira was starting to wonder if he had just imagined hearing something, when Akechi whispered,

“…don’t leave.”  
  
He pushed himself closer to Akira, who in turn curled his arm around Akechi, seeking out his hand and lacing their fingers together.

“I won’t,” Akira promised.


	7. November II

When Akira woke up the next morning, he felt a distinct sense of déjà vu: he was the only person currently occupying the bed. Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be four in the morning this time, not judging by the light streaming in through the window. He fumbled around for his phone and found it was just past 9:00am, which meant he was quite late for school.

Akira panicked for a half-minute before he decided not to worry about it. He hadn’t missed a single day since his probation started, so surely he had earned one skip day by now. Instead, he allowed himself to wake up slowly, stretching out his legs and yawning.

Now that it was light out, Akira took a moment to look around Akechi’s room. Like the rest of the apartment, it was sparely decorated, but this room was much more obviously lived-in. There were a few pieces of clothing scattered on the floor, and a big wooden desk, covered in stacks of paper, pushed up against the left wall. And considering it _was_ Akechi's apartment, it didn’t seem likely that he had up and abandoned Akira, so now the question was finding out where his companion had gone.

Akira was in the process of staring blankly into space and considering hypothetical scenarios when he heard the faint sound of a door opening. Somewhat reluctantly, Akira left the warm bed and made his way out into the living room, where found Akechi shuffling through the front door with a large bag in his hands. He was not only appropriately dressed to go outside, but he seemed to have been awake for some time now. Comparatively, Akira felt particularly disheveled, but still he moved towards the door, which at last caught Akechi’s attention.

“Oh, good morning,” Akechi said, setting his bag down on the table near the door. “Did I wake you?”

Akira shook his head. He looked curiously at the bag – up close, it was obviously a restaurant’s take-out bag.

“I wanted to apologize,” Akechi said, gesturing towards the table, “for making you cook, even though you were my guest. So I bought breakfast.”

“You don’t have to apologize for that,” Akira said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. When the smell of hot food hit his nose, however, he added: “But I do appreciate breakfast.”

“There’s a café down the street,” Akechi explained as he took his own seat, “and I’ve become quite fond of their breakfast menu. There aren’t many restaurants open this early around here.”

All in all, he had purchased two small containers of miso soup, a serving of natto, a bowl of rice topped with several fried eggs, an assortment of baked goods, and a pair of drinks that, upon a taste-test, seemed to be some kind of fruit juice. It was a delightful selection.

As they served themselves, Akira tried to gauge Akechi’s mood. He seemed to be in better spirits, at least, but his shoulders still looked stiff, and Akira thought he saw an anxious crease in his forehead. Akechi lifted his eyes and caught Akira staring, but to Akira surprise, he did not smirk or smile or change expression at all; all he did was take a deep breath. “I also wanted to apologize for my behavior last night,” he said slowly. “I –”

“Don’t. Don’t worry,” Akira said abruptly. He hated that Akechi felt compelled to apologize, and for what? Getting overwhelmed? “...I want you to rely on me,” he continued. “Okay?”

For once, Akechi did not protest or try to deflect Akira's words. He simply closed his eyes, gave a small, closed-mouth smile, and said, “I'll try. Thank you, Akira.”

Akira's heart fluttered and skipped. If there were any doubts remaining in his mind, they evaporated the moment Akechi said those words. Combined with his sincere smile, it was all Akira could do not to start spilling his secrets right then and there.

A long-forgotten thought suddenly came back to Akira:

How do you get rid of a knot?

The simplest way forward was to cut the thread, completely eliminating the knot. That was what the Thieves wanted to do. They were convinced that Akechi was the one who had set them up for a fall – therefore, Akechi was their knot, and naturally it would be best to simply cut him out of the picture entirely.

Yet if you deigned to cut around a knot, the rope would be ruined in the process. The only thing left would be two small, useless scraps of cord. It would become something impossible to repair. Akira did not want to throw away a part of his life so callously. He would not pit the Thieves against Akechi nor Akechi against the world; he would not play into that game.

It was tough, and sometimes painful, and sometimes it could take months, but if he could find a way to get a solid foothold inside the knot and loosen it from the inside, the knot could be removed and the rope would be left perfectly intact.

Akira had his foothold. He could reach Akechi's heart; he could _feel_ it.

“Oh,” Akira said suddenly; thinking about the other Thieves had jogged his memory. “I wanted to mention… are you doing anything Saturday night?”

Akechi shook his head. “No. Why?”

“We – uh, the Thieves are having a party. A welcome party. For you.” Akira watched Akechi’s eyes go wide with surprise. “We try to do something every time someone new joins, so…” he explained, and rubbed the back of his neck. “And I guess it’s sort of a goodbye celebration, too.”

“I… I see," Akechi said. He frowned, and poked at his food. After giving it some thought, he continued: “I apologize. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It’s just… I was under the impression the other Thieves didn’t much care for me.”

Akira shrugged. It wasn't an incorrect statement; the others _didn't_ like Akechi, especially not in the wake of the blackmail and the hacked phone calls. That fact was the only thing that gave Akira pause about broaching the subject with the others; he feared they would reject his plan to help Akechi based on personal grudges alone.

It was selfish of him to want this, Akira understood. He almost had to laugh at himself - he really was no good as a leader, after all. But when had the Thieves done anything selfless, anyway? They stopped Kamoshida to save Ann and Mishima, first and foremost. Madarame was to help Yusuke, and Kaneshiro, to save Makoto. Even Okumura was targeted largely because they wanted to help Haru. Thieves looked out for their own before anyone else. Why should Akechi be any different?

“It doesn’t matter if they like you,” Akira said eventually.  “You’re one of us now.”

 

* * *

 

“You can’t be serious.”

The next day, Akira called an impromptu Thieves meeting, where he laid out his thoughts as plainly as he could, while still omitting a few details – he didn’t need the Thieves to think he had an ulterior motive for wanting to recruit Akechi. Whether or not he actually _did_ have an ulterior motive was… debatable, but Akira decided it would be best to simply leave his secret out of the equation entirely.

“He’s serious, all right,” Morgana said.

“Something’s bothering me about the phone calls,” Akira went on, “It doesn’t feel right. I don’t think Akechi is pulling the strings. I... I think he needs our help.”

“You _do_ know he wants to kill you, right?” Ryuji asked, in the same tone of voice you would use to inform someone that the world wasn’t flat.

Akira shook his head. “That’s the thing. He said he’s _going_ to kill me.” He hesitated, and then added, “But I think he doesn’t want to.”

No one had an immediate response to that; rather, they all seemed somewhat stunned, except for Futaba, who was hugging her legs to her chest and peering over her glasses at Akira.

“Okay, well… I don’t think he’s pulling all the strings either,” Ann said slowly, piecing her thoughts together as she spoke, “but I mean... so what? Obviously he was ready to blackmail us on the fly, so like... what makes you think he'll wanna betray whoever he's working for?"

"...I just have a gut feeling," Akira said at last. He could tell by the look on Ann's face that his non-answer was not appreciated.

“Then... What do you propose we do, Akira?” Yusuke asked. He had been quietly watching the conversation play out, his fingers tented in front of his mouth. Akira couldn’t guess where he stood on the matter.

“I think we need to come clean to Akechi. Tell him everything,” Akira said. His thoughts came out in a rush of words, barely taking a moment to pause; he feared if he stopped talking for a moment they would silence him completely. “We’ll put him in a situation where he has to work with our plan, just like he did to us.”

Makoto sighed. She had been listening to the whole conversation, much like Yusuke, all the while considering the potential consequences for their actions as Phantom Thieves. “If we had more time, I think it would be worth pursuing,” she said. “As it stands, however… I think it would cause more problems than it would prevent.”

Akira couldn’t deny that her reasoning was sound. They had fewer than two weeks until their deadline, after all. He understood where the others were coming from. The problem was that they didn’t seem to understand where _he_ was coming from.

That was largely by Akira’s design, of course. It was finally coming back to haunt him.

Ultimately Akira saw no solution other than to sigh and concede to the majority. This calmed everyone’s nerves and earned him a few sympathetic apologies in the process, but soon the bad air dissipated and the group departed, cheerfully discussing the next day’s party and leaving Akira to his thoughts.

It didn’t matter, though. Asking the Thieves had been a formality more than anything else.

 

* * *

 

Akira felt good.

It was a rare sight to see everyone in the same room at the same time outside of Mementos, and to see everyone enjoying themselves was even better. They had asked Sojiro for permission to use Leblanc's kitchen for the evening, and - although unenthusiastic - he obliged.

Ryuji hadn’t convinced Iwai to buy him alcohol after all, so he resigned himself to bringing a collection of sodas and snacks instead, to the delight of most everyone, who were thrilled to take the time to enjoy talking to each other about something other than their Palace work, for once.

Only Akira seemed to be preoccupied with his thoughts. He wasn't sure exactly when his thoughts transformed from "I need to confront Akechi soon" into "I need to confront Akechi _right now,_ " but there was something about the atmosphere, about the way Akechi was smiling - like he had let his guard down - that made Akira want to strike immediately, before he had a chance to lose his nerve.

Everyone was deeply engaged with conversation and each other, and if Akira worked to minimize his presence, he thought he could wind his way through the room and carefully slip around the wall and up the staircase without anyone noticing. The only trouble, then, was getting Akechi to follow him.

Akira set his eyes and walked with purpose, with a destination in mind, and no one gave him a second glance – no one, except for Akechi, whose eyes darted towards Akira as he walked past.  Akira went out of his way to gently brush Akechi's shoulder. letting his hand linger for just a second longer than it should have. Without looking back, Akira disappeared around the wall hiding the stairwell.

He planted himself at the top of the stairs, resting his arms on his knees and lacing his fingers together, and he waited. His limbs were fuzzy and his heart was drumming with anticipation, and sooner than he expected, he saw Akechi at the base of the stairs, making up some reason to excuse himself for a minute. He laughed at something Akira couldn’t hear and began to ascend the stairs, smirking and shaking his head all the way.

“You enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?” Akechi asked, kneeling down on the stair just below Akira. Despite the din from the other side of the wall, Akechi spoke in a hushed whisper.

“Of course,” Akira said. Akechi laughed, and Akira leaned in to meet him, smiling into a kiss.

“That’s going to get you in trouble one day, you know.” Akechi murmured.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Akira said.

He couldn't help but indulge himself in another kiss - his hands wandering to Akechi's shoulders and running down his arms – before he reluctantly pulled back, just enough so that they could look each other face-to-face. The noise from the party downstairs faded away into meaningless white noise.

“Hey, Goro.”

Akechi’s smile faded when he noticed Akira’s serious expression. “Yes?” he asked.

Deep breath. “I want you to join the Phantom Thieves for real,” Akira said.

His words hung alone in the air.

Akechi's mouth opened, his lips curling into a confused half-frown. “I… I don’t know what you mean?” he stammered.

“We can help you. We can help each other,” Akira continued, as if Akechi had said nothing at all. Akechi made to back away from him, but Akira held fast to Akechi’s arms.

“I don’t understand," Akechi said, "What are you saying?”

“I'm saying I know,” Akira said. “I know everything – we all do. I know why you’re really working with us. But we can help you.” Words were pouring out of his mouth with a torrential force that he couldn’t stop. “The other Thieves don’t want to trust you, but I can convince them; I know I can, and–”

“Akira!” Akechi snapped suddenly, sharp, loud, and clear, and Akira shut his mouth. Akechi’s expression had turned notably cool. “I’m not sure where you heard these things…” he said, “But you’re mistaken. I don’t need any help.”

“I heard it from _you_ , Goro,” Akira said. “I know someone told you to kill me,” he continued, and Akechi flinched hard, trying to recoil, but Akira refused to let go and tugged him close again. “Who are they? Please tell me, Goro,” he pled, practically begging now, leaning in to press a kiss against Akechi’s neck.

“Stop,” Akechi said, taking Akira by the shoulders and shoving back a little harder than Akira expected. “I don’t recall saying anything like that to you... Are you trying to say you've been spying on me?”

Akira opened his mouth, but he had no response – they _had_ been spying on him, after all – and Akechi took his silence as tacit confirmation. Akira saw the flash of betrayal in his eyes as his gaze turned cold and unforgiving.

“When.” Akechi finally asked. “When did you find out?”

“As soon as I met you,” Akira said.

“Bullshit,” Akechi hissed. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Do you remember what you said?” Akira asked, slowly, patiently. Akechi didn’t respond, and so Akira continued: “Pancakes. You heard us talking about how Dome Town looked like a pancake.”

“And?”

“You hadn’t come around the corner yet, so you didn’t know. Morgana said that.”

Realization dawned on Akechi. “The cat.” His words sounded like needles, sharp and short. He gave a slow, ragged sigh. “You… You’ve known this whole time. _All_ of you, apparently. And yet you…” Akechi cut himself off, biting back his words. There was venom in his voice when he said: “You were manipulating me.”

“No. Never,” Akira said instantly. He could feel his chances of success slipping through his fingers. He suddenly questioned his decision to confront Akechi in the stairwell, so dark and narrow that it seemed to seal Akira in place until he was trapped between a wall and Akechi’s livid glare.

“You’re sick,” Akechi spat. He was shaking now. “I never wanted to know you. But you... Was it funny to you? To you and your _friends?_ ”

“That’s not – I haven’t said a word to them, Goro.”

“Don’t say my name,” Akechi snarled. He shut his eyes and hung his head, curling his fingers against Akira’s shoulders. Akira couldn’t tell if it was out of malice, or if he was desperately trying to keep himself standing. Without looking up, and much quieter than he had been, Akechi added, “…you said you loved me.”

“I do.”

“You’re lying!” Akechi’s head flew up, his voice getting dangerously loud again. “You’ve been lying since the beginning.”

“And what about you?” Akira countered. Those words had hit him like a stab to the gut, and he felt nauseated and dizzy just sitting there. Fear and frustration were flooding his brain. “When did you know you were going to kill me?”

Akechi made a strangled, guttural noise. “Shut up,” he muttered.

“I want you to be with us,” Akira tried again, calming his voice and leaning forward. “You don’t have to-”

“ _You_ don’t know what I have to do,” Akechi cut him off. “How could you? You don’t know anything about me!”

“Goro—“

“Shut up!” Akechi barked. He was shaking. “You— you… Why aren’t you angry?!”

“Because I want to help you,” Akira said softly. “I can help you if you’d let me, Goro.”

Akechi’s face contorted with rage. For the first time, Akira saw the Akechi who could become his murderer. “You—are you an _idiot_? I am going to KILL YOU!”

A hush fell over the stairwell. For a moment, the only thing Akira could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat hammering in his ears and Akechi’s heavy breathing. They stood there, each trapped in the others’ grip, until they heard a creak from the bottom of the stairs. Akechi whipped his head around, and Akira tilted slightly, until he was able to see Ryuji and Makoto peering around the wall, and Morgana, who was already two steps up the stairs. Ryuji looked shocked, but Makoto’s expression was impossible to parse.

“Guys,” Makoto said, her voice as hard as iron, “I think you need to come downstairs.”

Akechi turned back to Akira. His eyes were red and shining with unwanted tears. Akira stood up slowly, his legs shaking, and inclined his head towards the first floor. The anger never left Akechi’s eyes, but he did turn around and start to make his way down the stairs, with Akira right behind him.

Morgana turned tail and rushed down the stairs, disappearing around the corner. Ryuji left as well, but Makoto waited for them, never taking her eyes off Akechi – though Akira thought her stare was meant for him, as well.

Downstairs, the music had stopped. Everyone was looking towards the staircase, and the atmosphere felt heavy. Ann was sitting on top of a table, her arms crossed over her knees. Haru was nearby, closer to the stairs, looking like she was on the verge of tears. Yusuke was holding her hand.

“Sit down,” Makoto said, gesturing to a particular booth. Morgana was sitting on the table. Without any further prompting, Akechi sat down, sliding into the corner, and Akira sat down beside him, effectively trapping Akechi between the wall and Akira himself. Then the rest of the group moved closer to the table, huddling around them in a loose semi-circle.

There was a long, awkward pause.

“That was quite the conversation you were having,” Makoto said at last.

Akira summoned up every ounce of his conviction and tried to project his confidence to the group. “Akechi isn’t our enemy,” he stated. He looked Makoto in the eye. “He’s not – he needs our help.”

Makoto frowned at him, but the next voice he heard wasn’t hers, but Ann’s: “Akira, like… we talked about this,” she said. Akira's gaze shifted to her, and she met his eyes head-on. “That’s not how we do things and you know it.”

"You don't understand. The circumstances..."

"What about the circumstances don't we understand?" Makoto asked, leaning forward. Her eyebrows rose in something that might have been bordering on panic. "Are you keeping something from us, Akira?" 

“I made a decision,” Akira said, choosing to ignore her question. He paused before adding, “As our leader.”

“Akira…” Makoto sighed. “Of course sometimes you have to make decisions on the spot without our input. But to ask us our opinion and then blatantly ignore us... That was exceptionally selfish of you.”

“I know,” Akira said. There was an edge creeping into his voice. “But does it matter? I can’t un-say anything. So instead of chastising me, could we maybe think about what we want to do moving forward?"

That got a reaction from the group at large. No one said anything, but Akira could hear little murmurs of shock rippling through the crowd.

“Was that your plan from the beginning?” Makoto asked. “Just put us into a situation we can’t change and force us to adapt?”

Akira shrugged. “It’s worked for us so far. So why not?”

Makoto slammed her palms on the table. "Akira...!" she shouted, but before she could go any further, Morgana stepped in front of her, walking over her arms and flattened hands.

“This is certainly unexpected,” he said in a calm, but very firm, voice - a voice that told Makoto to swallow the rest of her thoughts. She pulled her arms back and rubbed his forehead. "But... Akira isn't wrong," Morgana continued. "We can't make Akechi forget what he heard. We're just going to have to move on from here. _Tomorrow!_ " he added quickly, when he noticed several others preparing to speak. "You won't make rational decisions when you're tired and pissed off."

"So... what, we're just gonna let him go?" Ryuji asked, jerking his thumb at Akechi.

Morgana rolled his eyes. "Obviously he's going to sleep here," he said, and then his eyes lit up. “Oh, but we should confiscate his phone for the night.”

Akechi winced. “Please—”

“Yoink!” Before he could say anything further, Futaba – who had been kneeling on the booth seat behind Akira and Akechi – slipped her hand into his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone. “I saw him put it away earlier today,” she explained to no one in particular.

Akechi laughed the sort of laugh that happens when you can’t quite figure out how you should be reacting at a given moment. “You should consider getting into close-up magic,” he muttered, to no one in particular.

A collective sigh escaped the room, and everyone who had been standing stone-still started to move again, though Ryuji still seemed fairly cross. “Well, how do we know he won’t try to escape once we’re all asleep?”

"I'll stay up and guard the door," Morgana said. "You all need to sleep in beds, but I can nap on the go, so I'll be able to recover faster."

"Dude, what are you going to do to stop him if he tries to escape?" Ryuji asked. "You weigh like, eight pounds. I'm pretty sure I could punt you across a football field."

"I- I have plenty of methods!" Morgana exclaimed, his tail flicking in frustration. "I could stop any one of you cold in your tracks!"

“The trains aren’t running now, anyway. So you can relax," Akechi interjected. His voice was dripping with bitter sarcasm. "I’m not interested in walking all the way home at two in the morning.”

Though Ryuji was still fuming, this seemed to resolve the argument for the time being. Akira rose from his seat, feeling exceptionally stiff. While Haru, Ann, and Makoto left with Futaba to go crash in Sojiro’s living room for the evening, Akira silently busied himself finding extra bedding for the boys to use.

This was not how he had pictured this evening going. Not in the slightest.

No one had much to say while they were preparing for bed. Ryuji and Yusuke made their beds up on Akira’s floor, strategically positioning themselves on the floor so they would be exceptionally difficult to avoid walking over, presumably as another method of keeping Akechi from fleeing.

Akira settled down on his futon and looked towards Akechi. While Ryuji and Yusuke had made themselves fairly plush-looking floor beds, completely decimating Akira’s sofa in the process, Akechi had taken only a single pillow and blanket. He wasn’t even laying down; he was just sitting there on the floor, leaning back against Akira’s bookcase, with his legs pulled up to his chest.

Akechi must have felt Akira's eyes on him. He glanced over towards the futon, and Akira could see the sullen, defeated expression on his face. Akira gestured towards the futon. It was a long shot, and he knew it, but it still stung to see Akechi scoff and turn away, holding tight to his own arms as he curled up on the floor.

The lights went out and Akira felt a lead weight in his chest, crushing him against his bed: It was the knowledge that he went from having nine allies to zero in the span an hour, and it was no one’s fault but his own.


	8. November III

When Akira woke up the next morning, he did not immediately stir. Instead, he lay still and kept his eyes closed. That way he could pretend that last night was a dream, or a nightmare, and when he opened his eyes he would be alone in his room, with all of his friendships still wholly intact.

He heard Ryuji and Yusuke’s hushed voices holding a conversation somewhere to his left.

Damn it.

Reluctantly, Akira rolled over onto his side and opened his eyes. It was light out, probably still early morning. Yusuke and Ryuji were sitting on their makeshift beds, talking quietly and occasionally tossing covert glances towards Akira’s side of the room. And immediately beside Akira’s bed was…

Akechi.

Akira released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. It was a small comfort to see that, at least, Akechi was still _here_ , lying on the ground with a small, thin blanket wrapped around his body, his back turned to Akira. That he hadn’t disappeared in the middle of the night had to count for something, didn’t it? For all of Morgana’s showboating about guarding the front door, it would have been simple for Akechi to sneak past the cat if he really wanted to leave.

But he didn’t run. Akira chose to think of that as a good sign.

Once it was clear that everyone was awake, the boys went downstairs and had a very quiet, very awkward breakfast, silently passing the time until the girls returned from Sojiro’s house. When they arrived, no one bothered with greetings; instead, the group collectively and simultaneously made their way up to the attic, with such heavy hearts that even Sojiro seemed to notice the tense atmosphere, though he politely refrained from commenting.

Once they were safely out of earshot from any nosy customers, Makoto turned and addressed the group. “I believe our first course of action should be to talk with Akira,” she said, and then quickly added, “Without Akechi.”

“Well, then someone’s gonna have to watch him,” Ann said, casting her eyes around the room. No one leapt at the chance, but it wasn't long before Ryuji sighed and stood up.

“Fine, I’ll do it. Just fill me in on the details later, okay?”

“Thank you, Ryuji-kun,” Makoto said, and Ryuji mumbled something about it being no big deal while he walked over to Akechi, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder.

“Come on,” Ryuji muttered. Akechi looked cross, but nonetheless he allowed himself to be guided down the stairs, back into Leblanc. In fact, Akira realized, Akechi had been remarkably accommodating all morning, like he wasn’t even trying to resist the situation. He was practically a zombie, walking without purpose, simply because he could. It was equal parts distressing and confusing.

After waiting until their footsteps faded completely, Makoto let out a long sigh. “Okay,” she began, “I think the first thing we need to do is determine exactly what information has been shared.” She turned her gaze to Akira, who thought he might as well just combust on the spot. It seemed that her anger had mellowed somewhat, which was good, but her stare was just as harsh and intimidating as it was yesterday.

When Akira did not immediately speak up, Makoto tried a different approach: “Akira. Please tell us exactly what you told Akechi. We won’t be angry with you,” she continued, her voice somehow softer than before, “but please, tell us what he knows. It’s vitally important.”

Akira could feel everyone in the room staring at him, and though he could tell that they were all unhappy with him, it didn’t seem as though things would escalate to a shouting match – at least, not right now. He took a deep, shaky breath, and sat down in one of the chairs around his table. He was afraid his legs would give out if he continued to stand.

“He knows we're on to him,” Akira began. “Mostly about how he intentionally set up our infiltration of Sae’s palace so that we could be captured. And he knows that _we_ know he's planning to kill me. But that's it, honestly."

He waited for the group to process this new information. Makoto nodded slowly, and he could see the gears turning behind Ann and Haru’s eyes, but it was Yusuke who broke the silence first. “So in essence,” he said, crossing his arms and resting his chin in his hand thoughtfully, “Our initial plan has been completely compromised.”

Akira looked at his lap. “Yeah,” he mumbled.

“And changing Sae-san’s heart was all just a ruse,” Haru said. Her voice sounded like delicate glass under immense stress: as if she could break at any moment.

“But— but Sis DOES have a palace,” Makoto cut in, frowning. “Long before Akechi entered the group, I learned that Sis had a palace. He didn’t create that; he was simply using her because it was convenient.”

“So could it still be worth it to change Sae-san’s heart?” Ann asked. “I mean, what’s stopping us from just sending the calling card as soon as we’ve found her treasure?”

“Akechi had said that the calling card may not affect Sis unless she was under the stress of a deadline,” Makoto said, “but I wonder if that wasn’t just a lie to get us to work on his schedule.”

“I have to agree,” Morgana said. “There’s no reason the calling card wouldn’t affect Sae’s heart immediately. This means that the obvious course of action now is to steal Sae’s treasure ahead of schedule and stop the investigation against us,” he stopped, sighed, and closed his eyes solemnly. “However… if we were to do that, we would undoubtedly tip off the people Akechi is working for.”

“And as we do not yet know the identity – or even identities – of the one giving him orders, it would be quite dangerous for us to provoke them in such a way,” Yusuke said. “We would be utterly defenseless against an unknown adversary. It would be not unlike Medjed, if Medjed had taken physical form.”

“That’s… not a terrible way to think of it,” Makoto admitted, after taking a moment to process what he had just said.

“If only we knew the name of the person Akechi is working for,” Morgana mused. “No doubt that someone who ordered a high schooler to murder his friend has a distorted heart. If we knew who it was, we could simply plan to infiltrate their palaces simultaneously.”

“Simultaneously?” Ann repeated, sounding practically aghast.

“It would be difficult, to be sure,” Morgana acknowledged. “Our workload would effectively double. But if we were to change Sae’s heart and then begin to infiltrate the second palace, we run the risk of encountering trouble here in the real world.” He bent his ears back in frustration. “In my opinion, it would be best to secure a route to the treasures in both palaces first, and then steal their hearts one after the other. Given our current situation, I can’t think of another way to nullify the threat that Akechi poses.”

“That’s quite the timeline,” Yusuke said. “The investigation is to take place in less than two weeks, and we don’t even know where to start looking for this other individual.”

“Not true,” Futaba said, shaking her head. “I know one guy’s name. Akechi said it during a phone call: Shido-san. That’s who he was talking to about… how to get rid of Akira.”

The room lapsed into silence. Akira felt like his head was full of cotton. It occurred to him that he had never once heard Akechi speak about his employers in any capacity, not even to gripe about work in casual conversation. And of course, Akechi HAD to be working with someone; the alternative was not just unthinkable but, in Akira’s opinion, completely _impossible_ \- because if Akechi was working only for himself, why would he seem to be in so much pain…?

Makoto took a long breath before standing up. “At any rate, here is where I believe we stand: Right now, Akechi has not contacted his employers. As far as they know, everything is still going as expected. Yet, if we accelerate our plan to steal Sis’s heart, we would have a very small window of time before they know things have gone wrong. This means we’re going to have to make a decision. We can’t just assume Akechi will be willing to work with us.”

Akira, whose mouth had gone dry minutes ago, finally found his voice again. “He will,” he said, his voice sounding like sandpaper. “I’ll convince him. He doesn’t want to oppose us.”

The others exchanged awkward glances. Akira felt strange knowing that they were having silent conversations all around him, probably _about_ him, that they were purposely excluding him. Had he really become such a liability?

Makoto eventually turned back to Akira with a look of pity in her eyes. “You heard his voice, Akira. He’s too far gone,” she said. “What makes you think you can reach him?”

 _Because I already HAVE,_ Akira wanted to scream, but he couldn't find the words.

Before he could gather his thoughts any further, Morgana spoke again. “Well, regardless... It seems we’ll need to ask Akechi about Shido directly. With only a last name to go on, he’s our only source of intel,” he said. As no one objected, he turned around and said to Ann: “Lady Ann, would you go get Ryuji and Akechi?”

Ann nodded and quickly leapt to her feet, dashing to the staircase landing. “Ryujiiii!” she yelled down the stairs. “You guys can come back up now!”

“That’s not what I…” Morgana began, before quickly deciding that now was not the time to argue semantics. “…oh, whatever,”  he mumbled.

Moments later, the two boys reappeared in the attic, both looking fairly surly, and they walked back over to the table. Ryuji all but threw Akechi into the open seat next to Akira, before he took the seat immediately to Akechi's left for himself. He crossed his arms and leaned forward, looking serious. “Okay, so what’s up?” he asked.

Morgana leapt up onto the table. "Akechi,” he said, with a firm and commanding voice that would have been much more effective if it wasn’t coming out of a cat’s body, “Tell us who you’re working for.”

Akechi sneered at him. “What makes you think I’m working for anyone? Perhaps I simply hate you all that much.”

It was a lie, and Akira knew it was a lie – hell, everyone in the room knew it was a lie – but he was embarrassed to admit that it still stung to hear Akechi say those words.

Makoto spoke up next. “We _know_ you’re working for someone,” she said, sharply enunciating each word, “because we have audio logs of your phone calls from the past three weeks. Unless you intend to tell us that you regularly have conversations with an imaginary friend?”  

Akechi was staring daggers at Makoto. "If you've been spying on me, as you claim, then surely you already know who I'm working for," he said.

"Mm. Shido, wasn't it?" Makoto asked, though Akechi did not react either positively or negatively. She continued, "A last name alone is hardly much use to us. And furthermore, that still leaves the question of motive. Who is Shido? Why did he order you to kill Akira?"

Akira felt a wave of nausea. He didn't enjoy hearing those words in that order.

Akechi made a low, angry noise. "And what exactly do you intend to do with that information? Force him to have a change of heart?" he asked, with a mocking lilt that made it clear he was not a fan of such an idea.

"It's possible," Makoto said.

A horrible, joyless smile crossed Akechi's face. "Then our goals truly are incompatible. You see, I have no interest in making Shido try to repent for his misdeeds. I intend to see him thoroughly humiliated, and then, I intend to make him very much dead." His words were laced with venom and fury and a great deal of other things that were left unsaid, boiling somewhere just below Akechi's surface level facade.

"The _hell_ , man?" Ryuji yelled, amidst a series of surprised noises from the other Thieves. “Who the fuck is this dude?"

Akechi tilted his head and feigned curiosity. “You don’t know him, Sakamoto? But he was on the television when we were downstairs in Leblanc. Or didn’t you notice?”

Ryuji screwed up his face in concentration, and moments later his eyebrows shot up. “ _That_ guy? The freaking – the politician?”

A flicker of recognition rippled through the group.

“Oh, him!" Ann exclaimed, "The one running for Prime Minister?”

"You must mean Masayoshi Shido?" Haru asked, and Akechi gave her a curt nod. "He's become quite prominent in Japanese politics recently. My father and I once attended a dinner party he hosted."

"Masayoshi Shido, the politician," Yusuke said. He spoke so deliberately and clearly that he attracted nearly everyone's attention, and it wasn't until they heard the tell-tale chime of the Meta-verse app that they realized what he was doing. He nodded in approval. "Your deduction was correct, Morgana. He does indeed have a palace."

Makoto clenched her hands into fists. "Akechi-kun," she said, "we know you were planning to ambush us in Sis’s palace. But if we were to steal Sis’s treasure ahead of schedule, we risk being targeted in the real world. If Shido's humiliation is your goal, surely a public change of heart would be satisfactory?" she asked.

Akechi frowned. “It won’t have the same effect,” he said.

“Why?” Makoto asked - or rather, nearly yelled, but she barely restrained herself at the last moment. “What makes a change of heart so different than killing Shido outright?”

“Because,” out of nowhere, Akira spoke up. Akechi’s eyes darted towards Akira with a mix of fury and fear. “Forcing a change of heart doesn’t benefit _you_. Right? Or were you not planning on taking credit for solving Shido’s murder?”

Akechi’s stunned silence was all they needed to confirm that Akira was absolutely spot-on. 

“...Obviously, you have some kind of personal grudge against Shido,” Makoto said, with an exasperated sigh, “but if he's truly as deplorable as you make him sound, surely you'd find merit in causing a change of heart? For the sake of anyone he's hurt-"

“I don’t care about anyone else,” Akechi hissed, cutting Makoto off. "Do you know how long I've have to spend working for that disgusting excuse for a human?" His eyes flashed before he seemed to realize what he was saying, and he calmed his voice, just a little. "My motives are entirely personal. I only intend to help Shido so that, when I have him completely at my mercy, he will have no choice but to admit that the only reason he got to be where he was... was because of me."

No one seemed to know what to make of Akechi's confession. Akira wracked his brain, trying to pull out any memory of a politician named Shido; he had seen that name on the news, he was sure of it - but beyond that, he couldn't recall anything. But just judging by the look on Akechi's face...

“Christ dude, who _cares_ about an asshole like him?” Ryuji asked, breaking Akira's train of thought. Ryuji was sitting sideways in his chair now. “Shitty adults just have shitty opinions that don’t mean jack shit.”

“I know that!” Akechi barked, surprising the others. “Of course I know that. If he was just some corrupt politician, I wouldn’t care what he thinks of me. But…” Akechi’s eyes hardened and he laughed a hollow laugh. “You were right to call me a bastard, Sakamoto.”

Ryuji blinked. “What,” he said flatly.

Akechi looked at him as if he was a complete idiot. “Because he fathered me without marrying my mother.” Then he smirked, showing far too many teeth. "And you know what that makes me."

“Shido’s your _dad_?” Ann exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth right after the words came out of her mouth. "Sorry, sorry," she quickly apologized, "I just - I wouldn't have guessed..."

"So when you said your motive is personal, that's what you meant..." Haru said softly.

“...that’s no excuse,” Makoto said finally, but she hung her head and wouldn't look Akechi in the eye. She intended to continue speaking, but Ryuji held up his hand to silence her.

“Nah, I… I get it,” Ryuji said after a long moment.

“Ryuji," Makoto started to say.

“Look," Ryuji shook his head, once again cutting Makoto off. "He shared somethin' big, so now I’m gonna share somethin' too, okay? That’s just fair.” 

Akechi was watching Ryuji with a serious look on his face, perhaps for the first time since either of them had met.

“Anyway..." Ryuji continued, "my dad was shit, too. Used to beat me ‘n my mom, until we moved away. He was total scum, there’s no question. I haven’t even seen him in years. But sometimes I still do things… just ‘cause I think it’d finally make him proud of me." He shrugged, and looked up at Akechi. "Y’know?”

To the surprise of Akira, and probably everyone else in the room, Akechi nodded. “Indeed… it’s quite like that," he said.

“I understand what you mean, as well,” Haru said. She took a few steps so that she could clearly see Ryuji and Akechi. “My father is – _was_ the kind of person who thought of his own gain before anything else, even if it meant causing someone else pain. I… I resented him for it. Sometimes I even hated him for it. But… he was still my father. I wanted to believe that he cared about me, in some way.”

"I... I detest Shido," Akechi said. His voice had lost its fight and his eyes were softening. Despite everything, Akira was beginning to see a light at the end of the tunnel. "There’s no one I hate more in the entire world. But I… I still…” Akechi cut himself off. “I hate it. Why do I want someone like him to respect me… why…?”

Ryuji shrugged. “It’s just one of those things, y’know? Like... respect your elders and all that shit. No one cares if your family is garbage, you're still supposed'ta make them proud.”

“So then, what am I supposed to do?” Akechi asked. It was the first genuine question from him all day – there was no malice, no mockery to his voice; he spoke the way he looked: confused and a bit frightened.

"Well..." Ryuji said, "Mom and I moved the hell away from dad. Not havin’ to see him every day helped a ton. But I guess that won't really help you, huh?”

“I… was unable to ever reconcile with my father,” Haru said slowly, “but I've been speaking with others about him. His employees, but also you all. To find out how other people saw him, but also to help come to terms with the cruelty of his actions." She lowered her eyes. 

"Ah... Okumura-chan..." Akechi said. The fury had all but completely disappeared from his face. "And you as well, Sakamoto. Thank-"

Before he could finish his sentence, however, Futaba gave a loud yelp and leapt in her seat. “Gah! Crow’s phone! Ringing!” she exclaimed, whipping Akechi’s phone from her pocket and sliding it across the table.

There was no name on caller ID, only a phone number. “That’s Shido,” Akechi said.

Makoto looked at him and pushed the phone in his direction. “Answer it, on speaker phone. Right now. Tell him everything is fine,” she said. Akechi stared back, and they played the world’s shortest game of chicken before Akechi reached out and answered the call.

“Shido-san?” he asked.

Over the phone, a distinctly male voice said, “Would you care to explain why you missed check-in yesterday?”

“Ah, my apologies, sir,” Akechi said. His voice was pleasant and amiable, but his expression was stone cold; the dissonance was quite jarring. “I spent the majority of my day in the Meta-verse. No phone service. The check-in simply slipped my mind.”

The voice on the phone sighed loudly. “It slipped your mind, did it?" he asked.

"It truly was a mistake, sir," Akechi said, visibly rolling his eyes. "If you'd like, I would be happy to give yesterday's check-in right now, though I have little to report. The infiltration is progressing precisely on schedule."

"Good," the voice said. "I have a new assignment for you. It's in your mailbox. See to it quickly."

Before Akechi even had a chance to respond, the phone was playing a dial tone.

"Wow," Futaba said dryly. "So that was Shido?"

"Indeed," Akechi said through grit teeth. He slid his phone back over to Makoto.

"...thank you for that, Akechi-kun," Makoto said. Akechi looked away and shrugged dismissively. "At any rate... I can see now that it may be difficult for you to speak about Shido. So for the time being, let's focus on Sis. Would you be willing to assist us?" She asked.

“So, you intend to go through with stealing Sae-san's treasure as planned...?" Akechi asked. 

"Yes," Makoto nodded. "It's for... personal reasons for myself, as well."

Akechi took a deep breath through his nose and closed his eyes. “I… would like to propose an alternate plan,” he said slowly.

The Thieves exchanged glances. After a moment of pause, Makoto waved her hand. "Well? We're listening," she said.

"I don’t think we need to steal Sae-san’s treasure at all," Akechi said. "Her palace was… manufactured, you could say. She distorted her desires on her own, of course, but the SIU director was under orders from Shido to increase her workload and the amount of responsibility riding on her shoulders."

"I... I see," Makoto said. "So... what do you propose, then?"

"I believe it may be worth it to try simply talking to Sae-san,” Akechi explained.

“I’m not sure about this…” Morgana said, his tail flicking back and forth. Akechi regarded him seriously.

“Consider: If you could convince Sae to see your side in one night… it would make things quite a bit easier for you going forward, wouldn’t you say?” Akechi said. “If she were to have a complete change of heart, she would surely follow the trend set by Madarame and Kaneshrio and make a public confession. Shido’s informants in the police department would be tipped off and there’s no doubt it would be back to Shido within the day.”

"That's a good point," Ann commented. "Even if we were able to jump straight into Shido's palace after that..."

"You have no way of knowing how long it would take to steal Sae-san’s treasure, nor Shido's," Akechi continued her thought. "Sure, in theory it’s possible to steal two treasures in a single day, but in practice…”

“I mean... it’s worth a try, right?” Ann asked. “We already know where she’s keeping her treasure. So, like… if talking doesn’t work, can’t we just go steal her treasure anyway?”

"I... I can't disagree with that," Makoto said at last. She turned her gaze to Akira, who had been content to watch things unfold for the time being. He sat up in his seat when he felt Makoto's eyes on him. "Akira-kun... you are still our leader. What do you think?"

"Ann's right," Akira decided. "We may as well try. But we'll need to infiltrate Shido's Palace first, like Morgana said," he looked pointedly at Akechi. "Goro, would you...?"

"I'll help," Akechi said. His eyes were downcast but his voice did not falter. "Not... today, okay?" he asked. "But soon."

"I have no problem with that," Makoto said. She looked around the room. "Everyone?" she asked, and the other Thieves all either nodded or made noises of approval. The mood in the room had lightened considerably. "Okay. Then I propose we break for the day. It's... been a long weekend. Let's regroup on Monday."

 

* * *

 

Akira stared at Akechi. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor again,” he said.

The Thieves decided that it would still be best if Akechi stayed at Leblanc for the time being - not only to keep an eye on him, but just in case anyone decided to pay Akechi's apartment a visit. Leblanc was the safest place for him. Ann and Makoto had started to make up a story to Sojiro, who cut in very quickly and said that he didn't need or want to know; if it was some Phantom Thieves business, he was better off not knowing. Regardless, he seemed happy to shelter one of Leblanc's regular customers.

“The sofa, then,” Akechi replied.

It was already late and Akira was drained from everything that had happened during the day, and he was in no mood to argue with Akechi about his choice of bed for the evening. Yet, that is what they were doing. Akira was already well settled in his futon, which - as prior experience had proven - was more than big enough for the both of them, but Akechi was preparing the same "bed" he had used the previous night.

“It’s going to get cold tonight,” Akira said.

"It's not my fault you don't have a heater," Akechi retorted, but Akira could see his resolve fading.

"Sleep on the futon," Akira said firmly. "I want you beside me."

Akechi looked at Akira, obviously startled and perhaps a bit flustered. "I... really don't understand you, Akira," he said, and at last he relented and made his way to Akira's side.

When the lights were out and Akechi had delicately settled himself under the blankets, Akira wrapped his arms around his companion. The air in his room was cool, almost uncomfortably so, but Akechi was so, so warm, and Akira felt deliriously content.

"I meant it, you know," Akechi said softly, just before either had dozed off. "I don't understand you at all. After everything I said to you..."

"It's fine," Akira said, his voice muddled with fatigue, and he nuzzled up against Akechi's back. “Don't worry about it." He fought back a yawn and then, relaxing until he was as close to Akechi as he could possibly be, he said, very softly, "Please just let me love you, Goro.”

Akechi squeezed Akira's hand tightly. “You should hate me,” he murmured into the darkness.

“I know,” Akira replied. “Get some sleep.”


	9. November IV

“Okay, so his name is Masayoshi Shido,” Ryuji said, through a mouthful of curry. “Then where’s his palace?”

“It’s gotta be the Diet Building, right?” Ann suggested. There was a phone sitting on the table in front of her, and after she spoke, the Meta-nav app blipped and confirmed that she was correct. She clenched her fist triumphantly. “Awesome! I mean, where else could it be, right?”

Morgana, who was sitting on the table, closed his eyes and nodded. “The only real trouble is his distortion. We don’t know anything about him. What could he possibly think the Diet Building is? Even all of Japan?”

It was late one evening, long past Leblanc’s closing time, and the Thieves were gathered in the café, snacking on leftovers and brainstorming keywords for Shido’s palace. Finding Sae’s treasure had been a simple feat; after rigging the slot machines in their favor, they were easily able to cross the strange bridge that led to the innermost room in Sae’s casino.

Morgana had declared the route secure, but instead of sending Sae a calling card, the Thieves turned their attention to their second target: Masoyoshi Shido. Until they knew they could sweep in and change the hearts of Shido and Sae in quick succession, no one felt comfortable making a big move – especially not Makoto, Akira had noticed, who still seemed uneasy with the thought of confronting her sister head-on.

“Could it be a limo or something?” Futaba suggested, twirling her fork between her fingers thoughtfully.

Akechi, who was sitting on a barstool behind the rest of the group, laughed at that one. Futaba shot him a grumpy look. “No, no – I expect you’re not that far off,” he said, with a dry humor. “The ways I’ve heard him talk… I think… it’s a ship.” No sooner had he spoken the word that the Meta-nav reacted positively, confirming the coordinates. He scoffed, looking almost disgusted.

“Ohhh, so like he’s gonna be the captain? Of Japan?” Ryuji asked. Akechi made a disgruntled but affirmative noise.

Makoto turned to Akechi, “Thank you, Akechi-kun,” she said, and Akechi simply shrugged.

“Well, now that we’re able,” Yusuke began, setting his utensils down delicately, “When shall we infiltrate the place?”

Akira glanced at the clock. It was late – already after midnight – but the group was restless and their time limit was short. “We could go now,” he quipped.

“For real?” Ryuji exclaimed, sighing once he caught sight of the little grin on Akira’s face. “Yeah, I’m sure no one’ll be suspicious of a buncha kids loitering outside the Diet Building in the middle of the night…”

“We can just go tomorrow, first thing after school,” Makoto said.

“You mean later today,” Akira said, which earned him a flat glare from Makoto.

“If you’re done being pedantic,” she said, “Then we should get some rest.”

“Will Akechi-kun be attending school tomorrow?” Haru asked, not to Akechi, but the group at large.

“I will," Akechi replied curtly. “It’s best I keep up appearances, in the event that Shido gets nervous and sends someone to keep an eye on me.”

“Don’t worry,” Morgana said, “Akira and I already decided I’d follow Akechi tomorrow. So I’ll know if he tries anything.” Though Akechi had been remarkably accommodating with their investigation into both Sae and Shido, many of the Thieves had trouble shaking their distrust towards the detective.

“Doesn’t it kinda defeat the point now that we’ve told him, though…?” Ann asked.

“I already know you don’t trust me, so what does it matter?” Akechi muttered, which promptly shut down any other discussion into the matter.

Everyone went their separate ways for the evening, except for Akechi, who slept at Leblanc again, without complaint but also without much else to say. Still, Akira had gotten so used to Akechi’s presence that leaving his side to go to school the next day felt strange – and even stranger that Morgana wasn’t with him, either. He was left alone with his thoughts for the first time in months.

It was very quiet. Akira didn’t much enjoy it.

Thankfully, the school day seemed to fly by, and before he knew it he was taking the short train trip over to the political district. Ryuji, Ann, Makoto, and Haru had accompanied him from Shujin, and in short order Yusuke, Futaba, and at last, yes, Akechi and Morgana, joined them in front of the Diet Building, and then in the blink of an eye they were standing on the deck of a gargantuan yacht in the Meta-verse.

It was absurdly large, floating through the flooded remains of Shibuya, where the tops of skyscrapers loomed in the distance like concrete icebergs, only adding to the larger-than-life sensation they felt when standing on the deck.

“This… is _so_ weird,” Ryuji said, staring around open-mouthed in awe.

“It looks like something out of an apocalypse movie,” Futaba agreed.

They were already in full Thief gear the moment they arrived; not surprising, considering what they knew about Shido and his penchant for paranoia. Akira chanced a look at Akechi. He was standing very still and very quiet, with a distant, cold look in his eyes. He did not meet Akira’s gaze.

As he led the way up into the Diet Building that was perched atop the yacht’s main floor, Akira glanced back at the group. “This is strictly a reconnaissance mission,” he reminded them, “so don’t go looking for fights. Okay?”

The yacht was impossibly large on the inside, too – larger than it should have been, based on the way it looked from the deck – not that a dreamscape had much use for realistic physics, anyway. There were dozens of people milling around inside, and they were all dressed in three-piece suits or slinky cocktail dresses, shiny jewelry sparkling noticeably on nearly everyone. Despite the upbeat music and brightly lit interior, the atmosphere felt horribly oppressive.

“This seems excessive, even for a politician,” Ann commented.

“Tell me about it,” Makoto said.

Haru, however, shook her head. “Actually… it’s a bit startling how realistic this is," she said. “The kind of people Shido associates with… they have no sense of scale. When you don’t have to worry about money, nothing seems over the top…”

Even knowing this, everyone could tell that this yacht was a little… off. Every cognitive world was a little bit strange; it was almost reality, and it could pass for reality most of the time, but there were little inconsistencies – the result of an individual’s perception of their own world – and once you noticed them, they became glaringly obvious.

Shido’s palace was no exception. It was, at first glance, an ordinary if excessively lavish yacht, complete with everything you would expect to see on a luxury cruiser. The stairs were covered in plush red carpet, bordered by polished wooden banisters with intricately carved designs curling throughout their length.

These fanciful touches lost their luster upon close inspection, however. Akira was pressed up against a corner, carefully scanning for shadows, when he first noticed that the texture of the wall seemed strange – it was perfectly smooth, like plastic. Crouching low to the floor, he ran his fingers across the carpet, and it was oddly smooth, too.

As they delved farther into the depths of the ship, it seemed that nothing was truly what it appeared to be – not the leather armchairs in the lounge, not the crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceilings, not even the flower arrangements that dotted the entire ship. If you took a moment to check for craftsmanship, the entire ship was clearly just an imitation – a false pretense to keep up appearances. Appropriate for Shido, Akira thought.

The guests, too, were an anomaly, but only because of how ordinary they were. Politicians that looked like regular adults, the kind of people who would board the train with Akira during rush hour, but the things they were saying… Akira thought maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but it shocked him to hear the guests speaking so casually about the cruel things they’d done.

It didn’t surprise anyone that the only way to get to Shido’s treasure room was ridiculously complicated. Someone so entrenched in political corruption couldn’t allow just anyone to meet him; he had to make sure he could trust his associates. Furthermore, the shadows patrolling Shido’s yacht were no joke; even when they were moving carefully, they found themselves in more than one unavoidable fight during the short hour they had spent investigating.

“We’ve seen enough for today,” Akira declared after one particularly rough scuffle. “We know what we need to do, so let’s head back for now.”

“Do you really think we’re gonna be able to get those guys to give us letters of introduction?” Ann asked as they made their way back to the Palace entrance.

“If we are unable to convince them, then surely we could procure the letters by force?” Yusuke asked.

“Hmm… I wonder if that’s going to be necessary,” Haru commented, as if she was thinking out loud. She received several confused glances, and continued, “Well, if Shido knows and trusts Akechi… then he could probably ask for letters of introductions without much trouble, right…?”

Akechi blinked. He hadn’t said a word since they had entered the Palace; he seemed almost surprised someone was speaking to him. “Well, unless I’d be expected to already have letters of introduction,” he said, after a moment of contemplation. “Or worse, I wouldn’t even need letters in the first place.”

“But we might as well try, right?” Ann asked. “Fox is right; if it doesn’t work, we can just beat the snot out of them.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” Akechi replied, and Akira thought he saw the flash of a smile on his face. “Though… would you blame me if I’d prefer to fight those wretches instead?”

Ryuji had to stifle a loud laugh. Makoto sighed. “Let’s at least _try_ to solve things peacefully first, okay…?” she pleaded.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Akira was leading the group down a long hallway somewhere in the bowels of the ship, right towards a particularly large metal door. Akechi had managed to talk two of the confidants into giving them a letter of introduction without any trouble; the real problem was navigating the ship, which was more of a labyrinth than anyone could have imagined.

Akira tried the door handle, and to his surprise, it opened easily. He carefully peered into the next room. Compared to the rest of the ship, it was dingy, dark, and industrial – Akira thought they must be close to the engine room now. But unlike the maze of the maintenance hallways behind them, which had been populated solely by shadows, there was someone in the next room.

It was an uncomfortably familiar silhouette, and Akira mentally cursed himself for not anticipating this. But it was too late to hide now; the others had already noticed his hesitation, as he crouched up beside the doorjamb just a hair longer than usual.

“What’s up, Joker?” Morgana asked in a hushed voice. He wormed his way through Akira’s legs until he could see around the door, as well. “Is there something big?”

“Let me take a look,” Futaba said, before Akira could comment. After a fraction of a second, they all heard her take a sharp, surprised gasp. “Oh, no…”

Then Skull and Fox and Panther were all at Akira’s side, vying for a look into the room. They were putting in a genuine effort to remain stealthy, Akira had to admit – but when so many people tried to occupy such a small space, there was only so much that could be done, and in seconds their bustle pushed the door open a little farther.

“Oh, shit,” Ryuji muttered.

Haru pressed a hand against her lips. “Shido knows Akechi, so this is—“

“It’s his cognition of Akechi?” Ann asked.

They were so shocked that they had let their voices grow loud, inadvertently drawing the attention of the figure in the room, and when he turned to face them, there was no denying that he looked identical to Akechi, right down to the way he dressed. His eyes, however, looked hollow and blank, and he had an eerily calm expression on his face. He surveyed the group in front of him with a long, slow stare.

“Hmm, I had heard there were a few rats running around the ship. I suppose I should have known it would be you.” He said at last, and Akira felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they had seen a Palace cognition of someone they knew, but Kamoshida’s perverted version of Ann had been easy to dismiss as blatantly fake. In comparison, Shido’s cognitive Akechi was frighteningly realistic.

Cognitive Akechi sauntered over closer to the group, when something seemed to catch his eye. “Oh? It’s me,” he said, smiling at himself. Akira took a step forward, and he heard Goro take a ragged breath.

“Now, perhaps I’m wrong, but I don’t believe we ever intended for the Phantom Thieves to breech Shido-san’s Palace, did we…?” Cognitive Akechi asked himself, gesturing to the room at large. “Or did you bring them here so we could kill them discretely?”

“Hey, back off!” Ryuji barked, brandishing his club at Cognitive Akechi when he started to get too close to the Thieves.

Cognitive Akechi stopped short of Ryuji’s club and frowned, turning his gaze towards the real Akechi once again. “Your outfit…” he mused, tapping his chin with his fingers, “Could it be that you’re still pretending to be one of them, even now?”

Akechi started to move, but Akira threw out his arm and held him back. He kept his eyes on the cognition in front of him. “No one’s pretending,” Akira said, in what he hoped was his most convincingly confident voice. “Shido is our mutual enemy. Akechi is our ally.”

“Oh?” Cognitive Akechi asked, tilting his head towards Akira. “I suppose the Phantom Thieves really are false justice, if they’d accept someone like him into their ranks.” He smirked. “How generous of you. After everything he’s done to you, you’d just forgive him like that? Even you, Okumura-chan? And isn’t Futaba-chan with you, too…?”

Haru furrowed her eyebrows. “What about me…?” she asked.

Cognitive Akechi’s face twisted into a sick, joyful smirk. “You haven’t told them?” he asked, looking back at Akechi, who was shaking with rage. “You _haven’t_ told them,” the cognition repeated, with venomous mirth in his voice.

“Shut up,” Akechi hissed, squeezing his eyes shut tight. He didn’t try to move, but Akira could tell he was only barely restraining himself.

“How wonderful,” the cognition smiled brightly. “I wish I could stay and see what happens, but…” he flicked his hand dismissively, causing three puffs of smoke to materialize right in front of the Thieves. The smoke quickly turned into three very large shadows: a pair of shiny white Cerberus with a Cu Chulainn towering behind them. “Die now, won’t you?”

“Get ready, everyone,” Akira commanded, taking a defensive stance.

The others scrambled to grab their weapons and return to their positions. As he ran up beside Akira, Ryuji yelled out, “Damn it, he’s gettin’ away!”

Akira’s eyes darted towards Cognitive Akechi, who was retreating deeper into the engine room, disappearing behind a giant steel drum.

“We have more immediate problems!” Makoto yelled back, and she stepped into place on Akira’s other side. She had already summoned Anat, who threw out a nuclear attack towards the Cu Chulainn in the back.

“Queen’s right!” Futaba called out. “Watch out guys, they’re coming for you!”

Caught unaware, Akira and Ryuji both took a solid hit from the lions, but once they were focused, the Thieves made quick work of the shadows. The fight took long enough for Cognitive Akechi to escape, however; Futaba confirmed that she couldn’t sense him in their immediate vicinity any longer.

“Still, he couldn’t have gone far,” she said. “Hey, do we need to worry about him? He can’t like… talk to the real Shido, right…?”

“I don’t think cognitions can do that…” Morgana said slowly, but the look on his face did not inspire confidence.

“How is everyone?” Akira asked. Thankfully no one had taken any serious hits, aside from Akira and Ryuji. “Then we should go ahead and pursue him. He’ll only remain a thorn in our side if we don’t.”

Refocused and much, much quieter this time, Akira led the group through the engine room, following Futaba’s instructions until they were standing in a small security room that overlooked a mostly-empty storeroom. They had tracked Cognitive Akechi here; he seemed to have a little base of operations set up at a small desk in the corner of the room, and from what they could tell, he was so occupied with what he was doing that he hadn’t noticed their presence.

“Okay,” Akira said, “We’ll use this vent to enter the room and ambush him from above. Hopefully then he won’t have time to summon any shadows.” The group nodded. Akira swept his eyes over his active team, and added, “Crow, you’re sitting this one out. Swap with Fox.”

Akechi’s eyes went wide, frenzied with anger. “You can’t – I won’t!” he said.

Akira swept over to Akechi and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him so close that he nearly bumped his nose on Akechi’s mask. “You _will,_ ” Akira snapped, and then, softly, “You’ve beaten yourself up enough already. No more.”

Akechi grumbled something inaudible and shoved Akira’s hand away, but he stepped back and fell into line with the other Thieves who were on reserve. Yusuke looked at him curiously before he moved to take Akechi’s place beside Akira.

The reserve team stayed in the security room while the others crawled into the storeroom, leaping from the rafters and landing so that they were flanking Cognitive Akechi from all four sides. The cognition didn’t flinch.

“How cowardly,” Cognitive Akechi sneered. He waved his hand and a pulse of force energy radiated out around him, but the group was ready and they only took chip damage.

“Sucks to be you, dude,” Ryuji said with a boastful grin, “because we already know every trick you got, thanks to that guy.” He jabbed his thumb back towards the security room and the real Akechi.

The cognition smirked. “Oh, I wonder?” he asked, holding out his hand. A cloud of black smoke formed behind him – similar to when he had summoned those shadows earlier – and a tall figure started to form behind him.

“Watch yourselves…” Akira said slowly, never taking his eyes off the form behind Cognitive Akechi.

“Wh-what the heck is that?” Morgana yelped.

“It’s a shadow, I think?” Futaba said. The figure was solid but hazy now, and Akira thought he could make out… horns, perhaps?

He shook his head clear. “It doesn’t matter!” he yelled, as much to himself as to the team. “We don’t have to understand it; we just need to beat them!”

Cognitive Akechi fought recklessly, but Ryuji was right that he mimicked the real Akechi’s battle style quite closely. He was strong and he didn’t hold back, throwing out his most powerful spells from the very beginning – and Akira nearly faltered, because his face was Akechi’s face, and seeing it so strongly contorted with rage just brought back memories of that moment at Leblanc…

And couldn’t things have just as easily gone wrong? It finally struck him why the cognition’s voice was so unsettling: because Akira had heard that voice before; it was the exact same tone Akechi used in his conversations with Shido, the ones Futaba had recorded. Watching this fake Akechi was like looking into a mirror that reflected an alternate reality – eerily realistic and wholly terrifying.

In the end, however, it was no contest. The Thieves had Cognitive Akechi beaten in mere minutes. Knocked to the ground, coughing and sputtering, the cognition never stopped glaring at them.

“Ha… it’s cute that you think this means anything,” he managed to say – thought it was nothing more than bravado, considering Akira and the team had him surrounded at gunpoint. “I’m nothing compared to Shido… and you, you’re–”

A sharp crack rang out – Ann yelped, and Akira nearly jumped in place – and there was a bullet in Cognitive Akechi’s head, the real Akechi standing just behind Akira’s shoulder, his gun leveled at the cognition on the ground, which – after letting out one last choked breath – faded away into nothingness.

Behind them, the rest of the reserve team tumbled out of the air vent, frantically scrambling after Akechi, until they realized they were too late to do anything.

The air was still. Akechi holstered his gun. “I doubt we’ll encounter much more resistance from here,” he said. His voice sounded like cold steel, hard and emotionless. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Are you okay, Mako-chan?”

Makoto took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Several hours after they had left Shido’s palace, the entire group was standing in front of Makoto’s apartment. After they dispatched Cognitive Akechi, finding the final three letters of invitations had been nothing more than a chore, one they completed in nearly complete silence. With the second treasure route secure, it was Morgana who suggested that they capitalize on their momentum and speak to Sae that same evening.

Akira thought it was a good idea. They were tired and on-edge and they might not make the most rational decisions, but Sae was in the exact same boat, and sometimes the best way to fight fire was with fire itself – or in this case, to get through to an irrational person, you had to act irrationally.

“I will be,” Makoto said finally, opening the leading the group inside. “Hey, Sis…?” she called into the apartment. “Are you home?”

“I’m here, Makoto,” a voice called from another room.

The group carefully filed into the room. It wasn’t a small apartment by any means, but eight people and a cat would make a crowd any they went. Most of the group settled into the living room, some taking seats on the sofa, while Ryuji stayed behind to guard the door, and Makoto took the lead, peering down the hallways father into her apartment.

Akira heard the soft click of heels on wood, and then Sae appeared from around a corner. She was still dressed for work; perhaps she had only just gotten home herself.

“Ho—uh, hello… everyone?” Sae said, stopping short when she caught sight of the entire group. She frowned in confusion, and then added, “Akechi-kun?”

Akechi gave a weak smile and held up his hand. “Good evening, Sae-san.”

“Sis, we need to talk,” Makoto said, softly. Sae crossed her arms, and Akira could see the gears turning behind her eyes, how she was trying to figure out what her younger sister and all her friends could possibly have to say.

Makoto’s hands were trembling when she continued to address Sae. “I’ve been worried about you, Sis. How… how has work been lately?”

All at once, Sae lost her hospitable air. Her face darkened and her poise straightened. She was quite formidable, even though she was only about as tall as Ann. “If you’re here to interfere with my work, you’re wasting your time,” Sae said tersely. “I’m already setting the stage to capture the Phantom Thieves as we speak.”

That caused some panic to ripple through the group, but Makoto stood her ground. “That’s a lie though, isn’t it, Sis?” she asked. Akira saw her clench her fists to steady her tremble. She did not blink, and never broke eye contact with her sister.

Sae looked appalled. “Makoto! How dare you talk back to me like that? I—”

“You have no evidence of the Phantom Thieves’ crimes. Nothing tangible, anyway,” Makoto continued. “So you were planning on forging evidence and arresting a false culprit. Am I wrong?”

Sae looked furious. “You say _I_ have no proof? And what about you?” she scoffed, turning aside and running a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe I have to take these baseless accusations in my own house… from my own sister!”

“Ah… That’s where I come in,” Akechi spoke up, maneuvering to the front of the group. “My apologies, Sae-san,” he said, and handed her a manila folder with several papers inside it.

Sae’s eyes traveled frantically across the documents, her fury intensifying every time she turned a page. It was a collection of pieces Akechi had assembled in the days prior; there were e-mail transcripts, evidence request forms, and general logs of Sae’s actions from the past few week – whatever he could find that related to her work on the Phantom Thieves case. After about five pages of searching, Sae abruptly ripped the entire manila folder in half and tossed the pieces to the ground.

“Copies, of course,” Akechi said. “I have the originals locked away.”

“ _You_ do not have the originals,” Sae snarled. “At best, you have copies, and copies are hardly decisive evidence.”

“Hmm? Are you so sure?” Akechi asked, with a look of feigned curiosity on his face. “And besides that… you admit these papers do exist?”

Sae’s eyes bugged out and she practically growled. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “So what if I am forging evidence? No one would believe you, not even you, Akechi-kun.”

“Sis…” Makoto said softly.

“Dude!” Ryuji yelled from his spot over by the doorway. “Would you just chill out and listen to us? We’re tryin’ to tell you that you’re bein’ set up!”

“More desperate lies,” Sae said.

Akechi sighed. “Again, I apologize, Sae-san,” He said. “Futaba-chan?” He asked. Futaba handed his phone over, and after a moment of flipping through screens, an audio log started to play.

[“…Sae-san seems a good candidate to me. She is reliable, but seems primarily motivated by furthering her own career. Furthermore, she has a family history in law enforcement…”]

“That’s… you, Akechi-kun?” Sae asked, stunned. Akechi however had turned his back and retreated towards the far wall. The recording continued,

[“Her father was killed in the line of duty around three years ago.”]

“And who on earth is that?” Sae asked. Ann quickly shushed her so they could continue the recording.

[“So I’ve gathered,” Akechi’s voice said. “That she became a prosecutor shows she held a great respect for her father. I wonder, however, if his death altered her perspective on her career path…?”

The man on the other side of the call grunted.

“Overall,” Akechi’s voice continued, “I would say she is a strong candidate to develop a Palace naturally. That said, if we were to add some external pressure…”

“I concur. I’ll speak to the SIU Director at once. Keep an eye on her in the coming weeks and watch for a Palace to form. Contact me as soon as something happens.”

“As you say, Sir.”]

After this, the recording abruptly cut off. The anger and passion had drained from Sae’s face, leaving her looking pale. She nearly fell down onto the sofa and raised a hand to her forehead, pushing back her bangs, looking bewildered.

“I have no recordings of the SIU chief, of course,” Akechi spoke up – he was facing forward again, though he lingered back away from Sae, “But you must have noticed the sudden increase in your workload and responsibilities, correct?”

Sae looked at him wordlessly, and nodded.

“Sis,” Makoto said, stepping forward until she could reach out and place her hand on top of Sae’s. “I am a Phantom Thief. We all are.”

“You… you can’t be serious,” Sae said, but without an accusing tone; if anything, she sounded like she desperately wanted Makoto to be joking. “If… if you really are the Phantom Thieves, then how do you know all these things about the investigation…?” Sae asked.

“Ah, that’s because Akechi-kun was a double-agent,” Haru said simply. “But we’ve convinced him to join us now.”

Sae groaned, lying back on the sofa. “I… don’t want to believe this,” she said. “Just a few days before I was going to conduct my investigation, too…”

“Guys,” Makoto said, “I think… it might be best if I talked to Sis alone now.”

Akira nodded. Before they left, Futaba handed Makoto a thumb drive with all the recordings she had secretly made of Akechi, in addition to several audio logs Akechi had made of his own conversations with Shido. They thought if there was anything Sae would believe, it was irrefutable evidence.

“Call us if you need any help. Anything at all,” Akira said to Makoto, just before they left. Makoto simply nodded.

“Is this really going to work…?” Akechi asked, as they made their way back home.

Morgana shrugged. “We’ll just have to trust Makoto. We can’t worry about it now. If she doesn’t succeed... we’re going to have a long day tomorrow. Let’s get some rest.”


	10. November V

“I don’t know if she _believes_ me, but she is listening to me, at least,” Makoto sighed.

On the other side of the phone, Akira found himself shaking his head. “It’s more than that,” he said, “If she wanted, she could have arrested all of us days ago. You got through to her, Makoto.”

There was a quiet, contemplative pause, and then Makoto said, “I think so, too. Thank you, Akira-kun.” She let out a long, heavy breath. “Besides that… how have things been on your end? Haru-chan told me… about the other day.”

It was Akira’s turn to sigh, flipping around in place on his sofa with renewed agitation. It had been two days since they had confronted Sae, and while the group was waiting to hear back from Makoto, they had largely spent their time speculating about their impending fight with Shido – what his shadow would look like, what his treasure could be, and of course, how to send their calling card.

They were more or less split between wanting to send something really flashy, overt, and unavoidable, or wanting to send a subtle but insistent message – something that would dog Shido relentlessly until his treasure had been stolen.

“We could get Akechi to do it,” Futaba had suggested. “I mean, wouldn’t it be a huge shock if Shido learned the Phantom Thieves had one of his pawns right in their pocket?”

“I… don’t think I’d be opposed to that,” Akechi had said, with something almost resembling amusement. “Did you have something in mind, Futaba-chan?”

A devilish smirk crossed her face. “That’s a secret. But… between you and me, I might have a few ideas.”

“Oh hey, that reminds me of something, Akechi-kun,” Ann had said, turning to face the detective, her smile fading away, “…there’s nothing else you wanna tell us, right?”

Akechi had frowned. “I… if I had anything left to share, I would have done it by now, Takamaki-chan.”

“I mean, I guess it might be nothing,” Ann continued, distractedly fiddling with one of her ponytails, “Or maybe it’s just Shido’s shadow trying to mess with us, but…”

“Oh,” Haru had interjected, “I think I know what you mean, Ann-chan.” She turned her attention toward Akechi. “I’m sorry to have to bring this up, but it was when we were fighting, um… you.”

Akira had felt Akechi stiffen up beside him.

“He mentioned me, and said there was something you hadn’t told us.” Haru paused, her eyebrows furrowing up until she had a pained expression on her face. “Do… do you know what he could have meant?”

The question hung low and heavy in the air for a long, silent minute before Akechi said anything. “I… suspect it was nothing more than an attempt to unnerve us,” he had said. Akira could see him slowly clenching and unclenching his hand underneath the table.

“Wow dude,” Ryuji had said, “I can’t believe I never noticed it before, but you’re a really bad liar.” Akechi looked taken aback, and Ryuji added, “Don’t you remember? You totally flipped out after he said that. So what’s that about?”

Silence.

“…it’s something bad, huh,” Ann had said.

“You’ve all been astoundingly accommodating of me thus far,” Akechi replied, his voice so pained that he was practically pleading with them, "So please... for the sake of the mission, please forget about what he said."

“…Okay, well you gotta tell us _now,_ ” Ryuji had said. Akechi gave him a skeptical glare. “No, for real. I mean, you basically just admitted you’re hiding somethin’, right? So spill. We don’t gotta keep you around for the final fight, y’know.”

Akechi ran a hand through his hair, grasping tightly at his scalp and wincing. “Tell me…" he began, "Do you think Shido would just accept some kid into his good graces if I didn’t have something to offer him?” he had asked, largely rhetorically, because he continued before even waiting for a reply, “Furthermore… can you imagine how useful it would be for a politician to have access to the Meta-verse?”

Akechi had pursed his lips, as if he was about to stop speaking, until Akira gave him a gentle nudge with his knee. He thought he heard a pained whine somewhere deep in Akechi's throat. “Interrogating a person’s shadow turned out to be the perfect secret weapon,” he had said, slowly, methodically, “As it was completely invisible – no paper trail.

“But… it wasn’t enough for Shido. Of course,” Akechi had laughed then, seemingly at himself. “I don’t remember how he found out – perhaps I told him? – that my persona could alter a person’s mind, not just their shadow, but once he knew… I became quite busy.”

“You… you’re talking about the psychotic breakdowns?” Ann asked.

Akechi nodded.

“For real?” Ryuji gaped at him. “Robin Hood can do that? That tubby guy makes people lose their minds?”

Akechi just shrugged. His eyes were boring holes in the table, pointedly avoiding the looks from every other person in the room. “I thought I had the upper hand when it came to the Meta-verse, but… it was frightening how well-researched Shido was about cognitive psience.”

Then Akechi had trailed off. Akira studied his face, watched the way his muscles were twitching as he fought to keep his expression neutral.

“Complete mental shutdown was just the next logical step after a psychotic break,” Akechi continued, “Interrogating someone without their knowledge was one thing… imagine how tempting it must have been to kill someone with no evidence. A politician’s dream come true.”

It didn’t hit Akira as hard as he thought it should have, but he was still stunned into silence along with the rest of the room. How many news reports had he seen this year about some political figure suffering a sudden, inexplicable death? Dozens, at least. Of course Shido had to have been behind it – Akira thought he had figured that out long ago – but as for the method…

“The mental shutdowns…”

Haru's voice, somehow both sharp and delicate, like a scythe cutting through grain, broke their silence. “How many of them did you cause?” she asked.

“All of them,” Akechi had said.

“Even my father?”

Akechi did not look up.

“…Yes.”

Emboldened by Haru’s question, Futaba took a step forward. “…and my mom, too. Right?” she had asked.

“Wakaba Isshiki,” Akechi had said, slowly rolling the name over his tongue. “She was one of the first – an experiment, you could say. It wasn’t a true mental shutdown… more of a well-timed psychotic episode.”

“Though in the end, the result was the same,” Yusuke commented.

“I’m well aware of that,” Akechi had said. There was a sharp edge to his voice; with his admission out in the open, his demeanor seemed to have shifted. He raised his head, and Akira could see a cold, unemotional glint in his eyes. Haru and Futaba were staring at him with a mix of fear and horror on their faces, and when he saw, he scowled, and snapped at them, “What, do you want me to apologize?”

“How can you say something so callously?” Ann had asked. She was glaring daggers at him now, and had moved to stand beside Haru almost protectively. “You’re talking about their family.”

“I’m sorry if that word doesn’t hold much weight to me,” Akechi had said with barely-veiled contempt. “At any rate… this is why I simply cannot allow Shido a change of heart. It’s too late.”

“You – you complete _ass_!” Ann barked, slamming a hand down on the table. Akira nearly jumped in place. “Are you kidding me? You’re really gonna try and act like you aren’t responsible too?”

“Do not _lecture_ me, Takamaki,” Akechi replied, abruptly getting to his feet. “I am aware of my own culpability. What I mean to say is, it’s too late for _me_. I’ve already come this far. If I gave up now, then why did I…” Akechi bit his tongue and cut himself off. “I’ve put too much into this. I won’t stop now.”

Ann blinked at him, her mouth parted on words that were stuck in her throat.

Akechi took a deep, steadying breath, and said, “…I should leave.”

“Goro, don’t –“ Akira had started to say, but Akechi quickly cut him off.

“This is your space,” he explained. Then he lowered his eyes, glancing at Akira with a softened expression. “…I won’t go far,” he said quietly. “I’ll be back," and before Akira could protest, Akechi was out the door, leaving behind only the soft chime of Leblanc’s door bells and a painfully awkward silence.

Ann sighed loudly and leaned back in her chair, massaging her temples. “Geez…” she muttered.

“Did you not consider this a distinct possibility, Ann?” Yusuke asked.

“I mean, I… I guess I did,” she admitted, “But it’s still different to hear it from him…”

She wasn't wrong; believing something and having your suspicious confirmed by the source were two completely different feelings. One only had to look at Haru - Haru, with a hand on her forehead, her fingers just pushing back into her hair, her eyes squeezed shut - to see the difference.

“A-Akira,” Haru stammered, “I’ll… when Makoto contacts us, I’ll be ready, but right now I need to… I need…”

It was taking all her strength to remain composed, Akira could tell. “It’s okay, Haru,” he said, “Do what you need to.”

Haru looked at him, grateful – though he could see tears already forming in the corners of her eyes – and took her leave from the café with hurried steps.

That would be where Haru’s story to Makoto would have to end, Akira figured, but it hadn't been the end of things; he let the events that followed Haru's departure seep back into his brain.

"I want to be alone," Futaba had announced. With her eyes obscured behind her glasses and her chin pressed down close to her chest, Akira couldn’t read her expression, but her voice had sounded just like Haru’s: ready to crack at any moment. Instead of leaving, however, she had turned and ascended the stairs into Leblanc’s attic.

Then there was a long moment where the remaining Phantom Thieves simply sat in silence, maybe exchanging a glance every so often, lost in their own thoughts. The atmosphere became heavy, oppressive, and stagnant - and Akira found himself standing, pulling on a coat, and saying, “I’m going to go find him.”

He was distantly aware that Ryuji had give him a pitiful look - "Seriously, dude?" he had said, "After everything that just came out, the one you're gonna go after is him...?"

But Akira didn’t listen, or if he did, he didn’t deem the question worthy of a reply.

It took him nearly half an hour before he found Akechi, who had taken refuge in the far-back corner of a small diner a few blocks from Leblanc. Akira made his way to the counter and ordered himself a coffee before he ambled over to Akechi’s table.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” Akechi said without looking up. “You’ll make the others angry.”

“Let them be angry, then,” Akira replied, sliding into the seat across from Akechi.

Akechi picked idly at his food. “You’re reckless,” he finally said, “to risk your friendships for someone like me.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Akira replied.

At this, Akechi finally did look up, giving Akira a chance to study his expression. His jaw was set and his eyes looked hard, but his whole posture was deflated and worn down. “Have the others said anything?” he asked.

“Haru left just after you did,” Akira informed him, “and Futaba went upstairs to be by herself. As for the others… I think everyone’s still trying to process things.”

Akechi nodded thoughtfully. “And what about you?” he asked. “…I really have told you everything now. What do you think of me now that you know what I am?”

There was something strange hidden in his words, a tiny hint of unmasked fear. He was worried, Akira realized – afraid to hear Akira’s answer. After a brief pause, Akira said, “I think I already knew.”

Akechi laughed without humor. “Of course.”

“I’m serious,” Akira said. He stopped in order to thank the waitress who delivered his coffee, and once she was out of earshot, he continued, “Well, we knew Shido had someone who could enter the Meta-verse working for him. You’d have to know who that was, considering how closely you worked with him. If it was Shido himself, or someone we needed to watch out for, you would have told us. So when you didn’t…” Akira trailed off. “I guess I just assumed.”

"…You haven’t answered my question,” Akechi said, after a long, contemplative pause.

Akira leaned forward in his seat, letting himself smile just a bit - a disarming smile, he hoped - and said, “I already forgave you for planning to kill me. So what do you think?”

“I think… you’re a fool,” Akechi shook his head, but there was no malice to his words. “A complete idiot.”

“Love makes you stupid,” Akira said, raising his coffee cup to his lips and smirking.

"...It must,” Akechi said. He was staring at the table, his bangs falling loosely over his face and obscuring his eyes. “I don’t know how I got into this situation otherwise.”

Akira’s eyebrows shot up.

Akechi must have realized the implication of his words as well, because he quickly cleared his throat and changed the subject. “I know it’s a more… permanent solution than yours,” he said, “but everyone I’ve taken out… I think they deserved it. Perhaps excepting Wakaba-san.” He sighed and looked at Akira with a grim smile. "If you knew the things some of my targets had done, you wouldn't blame me for feeling no remorse."

"None at all?" Akira asked.

"I... regret that I allowed myself to be turned into a tool," Akechi admitted, "but do I regret taking them out? Not at all."

Akira sipped on his coffee thoughtfully before replying. “I guess changing someone’s heart is pretty permanent, too," he said, "It completely changes who you are.”

“But you’re still able to be someone,” Akechi countered.

Akira couldn't argue with him there, so instead he asked, “You really don’t want to change Shido’s heart?”

At this, Akechi leaned back in his seat and stared at the ceiling. “To be honest, I’m… not really sure who I am, apart from Shido,” he admitted. “And... I’m not sure I’m ready to find out. ”

Then they lapsed into silence, content to quietly sit across from each other and finish their food and drink with an unhurried air. It wasn't until they were leaving the diner, about ready to part ways, that Akechi spoke up again.

“I wonder…" he mused, looking out into the distance instead of at his companion, "if you had met me before you met the others, would you have joined me instead?”

Akira blinked. “…I don’t know," he said honestly. "I might have.”

Akira returned to Leblanc alone - at Akechi's insistence - and he found that Ann, Yusuke, and Ryuji had left, and Morgana was missing as well. Upstairs, however, he found Futaba curled up on his sofa, her legs tucked up against her chest. Her eyes were red; she had almost certainly been crying.

She looked up when he arrived, and Akira thought she might burst into tears on the spot. “Akira…” she said, her voice froggy and rough, “I don’t even hate him.” She bit her lip and cast her eyes to the ground. “He killed my mom, and I don’t hate him. I… I really am a terrible daughter after all, huh?”

“No. Not at all,” Akira said. He took a seat beside her, looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “You’re kind, Futaba.”

Futaba leaned into his touch, sniffling just a little. “I want to be angry!" she said, "I want to be angry at him so badly, but I just… I _hate_ this, Akira.”

Unable to think of any comforting words, Akira had simply hugged Futaba tighter, letting her head fall against his chest weakly. He was surprised at how perfectly she had described the conflict that he himself was feeling - all without meaning to.

Her words lingered in Akira's mind as he allowed himself to return to the present, and to Makoto, waiting patiently for him to speak. “Things… aren’t great,” he said finally, “But I doubt they’re going to get better until we’ve put this mission behind us.”

“Sis’s investigation is scheduled for tomorrow,” Makoto said pensively, “So…”

“It’s tomorrow or never,” Akira agreed.

 

* * *

 

It was tough to fit the entire gang into Futaba’s tiny room, but somehow they managed – Futaba in her chair, Morgana sitting on her desk, and the others fanned out around them, all peering eagerly at her monitor. Akira surveyed the group.

“Okay,” he said. “Is everyone ready?”

Most everyone nodded or made some kind of affirmative noise, with one exception: Haru, who nervously cleared her throat. A few people glanced towards her, but her eyes were fixed on only one person.

"Akechi-kun..." she began, “I wanted to –“

“Don’t,” Akechi interrupted, holding up his hand. "I already know. I did horrible things to help a monstrous person because I thought it would make me feel good about myself,” he grimaced. “...I really am the worst kind of person.”

“N-no, that’s not…!” Haru exclaimed. Her hands curled into fists and she was giving Akechi a glare more forceful than Akira could have imagined possible. “You… S-stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

Her voice was a little shaky, but clear and loud, and it made Akechi’s eyes widen with shock. "You’re right!" she continued, "You did do horrible things. Even if you were acting under Shido’s orders, you… you’re still a murderer. If it was up to me, you’d be in jail!” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “But if you’re truly sorry about what you did… then stop treating yourself like a victim! All you’re doing is disrespecting the people you’ve killed!”

"Ah..." Akechi stared at her, "Okumura-chan..."

Haru gave him a firm look. “I can’t forgive you. But... if you’re honest about wanting to atone, I’ll support you.” She turned her gaze toward Akira. “And Akira-kun… I’m unhappy with you, as well. But I think I understand why you did what you did now.” Haru took a deep breath. “So… I want to finish this! Okay?”

Akira felt himself smile.

Without any further prompting, Akechi procured his phone and called Shido. There were a few tense, silent seconds, and then,

"Shido-san," Akechi said. His voice was sharp, quick, almost frantic, but in-person he was struggling to keep from smirking. "Something - something's gone wrong, I..." he paused, letting Shido speak into his ear, and then continued, "N-no, you don't understand! The infiltration, it’s–“ he cut himself off again, and his expression turned cross, “Stop! I need you to listen to me! The Thieves, they aren't targeting Sae-san, they're targeting _you_!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Futaba sprang into action. With Akechi’s help, they were able to find contact information for anyone and everyone even remotely tied to Shido – the real versions of the confidants from his Palace, for instance, but also some of the lesser politicians, people who had come to Shido asking for help eliminating a political rival – and Futaba wrote a program to flood their e-mail with hundreds and hundreds of calling cards. Shido himself would receive the brunt of her attack, but they wanted to make sure that anyone who was even remotely connected to him would start to panic.

Akechi started to speak again – “I don’t know what they’re planning!” – but halfway through the sentence he pulled his phone from his ear and hung up on Shido, quickly shutting the device down completely, and then, to Akira’s immense surprised, he _giggled_.

“Ah… forgive me,” Akechi said, bringing on hand up to cover his mouth, “That was… cathartic.” Awkwardly, he cleared his throat, and then he added, “Um, Futaba-chan, are we…”

"Done," Futaba said, pushing off from her desk and swiveling around to face the group. She was grinning triumphantly.

"Okay then, let's hurry!" Morgana said, jumping to the ground. "Shido’s gonna go into full damage-control as soon as he realizes what’s happening, so we need to get out of here and into his palace fast.” He scrambled to the door and pawed at it impatiently. “Let’s go, let’s go!!”

 

* * *

 

Akira was surprised to realize that he was _relieved_ when they entered Shido’s palace and found the entire yacht on high alert. Their rapid-fire calling card had been a gamble; they had never tried to steal a treasure so quickly after announcing it, but it was obvious from the security that they had thoroughly rattled Shido, and – as Morgana confirmed – his treasure had solidified in record time.

As they reached their destination, the group slowed to a light jog and eventually stopped altogether, coming to a halt just in front of a set of massive elevator doors, behind which were undoubtedly both Shido’s treasure and Shido’s shadow itself.

“Mona, Queen, Crow, I want you with me on the front lines,” Akira said, stepping out in front to address the group. “Everyone else, you’ll be guarding the perimeter while we fight. I don’t trust Shido not to pull some kind of trick. And Oracle, I know you’ll be focused on our fight, but I need you to keep an eye on the defensive team as well. Okay?”

Makoto frowned at him. “Joker, are you sure –“

Akira fixed her with a stern look and shut down her objections without a word. There wasn’t time for this argument, and even if there was, Akira wasn’t worried that Akechi would try to pull something after all this time.

This was, after all, what he had been waiting for.

They took the elevator into the central assembly hall, where - as expected - they found Shadow Shido waiting for them. More importantly, Akira noticed something glittering above him – a huge golden wheel. That certainly hadn’t been there before; he glanced down at Morgana, who was looking at the ceiling as well. They locked eyes and Akira gave a quick nod.

From his perch on the stage, Shadow Shido looked down at them with a sneer, and he seemed disgustingly human - almost unrecognizable as a shadow - his distortions were just that strong. “What disgusting wretches have managed to worm their way here?” he asked. He had a voice that made Akira nauseous.

“You…” Ryuji started to speak, but Akechi threw out his arm and cut him off.

“Forget it,” Akechi said tersely, stepping forward and glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the team. “Are we here to reason with him? Do you think anything you could say would get through to someone like him?"

As Akechi spoke, Shadow Shido turned up his lip. “Even you? I should have known to dispose of you sooner rather than later. Worthless boy.”

Akechi mouthed the word silently and drew his sword.

“Crow…” Akira warned, without taking his eyes off of the shadow in front of him.

Shadow Shido’s blazing yellow eyes narrowed to furious slits. “You would draw your weapon against me?” He spat towards Akechi – Akira felt a spike in energy – and he continued, “A tool that won’t work is nothing other than garbage! It was a mistake to keep you around so long, but... it seems I have the perfect opportunity to dispose of you now.”

Akechi was shaking with rage; he gave a low growl and clenched his open fist – and suddenly a soft blue light started to glow from his hand. Akira’s eyes went wide.

“I…” Akechi stalked forward, letting the tip of his sword drag across the ground behind him, “will not be insulted… by a worthless piece of shit like you! Not anymore!” A sound like a firecracker snapped through the air and a dark, deeply foreboding silhouette suddenly towered over Akechi.

“W-wait, what the heck?” Futaba yelped. “That’s…!”

“Crow has another persona??” Morgana yelled.

Akira thought he might laugh. Of course…

Akechi really was just like him.

He was shaken out of his reverie when he heard a pair of spells fire off in quick succession, one blow landing on Shido and the second on Akechi. “I need everyone to focus!” Akira yelled, pulling out his best Joker voice and compelling them to listen. In seconds Makoto and Morgana had stepped into position beside him, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ryuji and Yusuke and Haru fanning out around the perimeter of the auditorium.

While Morgana and Makoto began hurling spells in an attempt to learn more about Shadow Shido's defenses, Akira watched Akechi - now standing stock-still a few yards away - his second persona still floating above his head. Akira could see him yell something indistinct, and his persona produced a thick black smoke that settled down over Akechi rather than Shido, absorbing into his skin. At all once, Akechi's demeanor shifted; where he had been standing stiff with fury, his whole body relaxed, and Akira thought he could see the start of a cruel smile blossoming on his face.

“Woah, Crow!" Futaba’s voice suddenly yelped in Akira's head, "Your attack’s way up, but your defense…!”

“Queen!” Akira immediately called out, “Can you dispel the debuff?”

“I… I can’t!" Makoto replied, "Anat won’t let me!”

" _Damn,_ " Akira hissed, and then he yelled out, "Crow!" - but it was useless; Akechi surged forward and struck Shido’s beast with his sword, which emitted a terrible, humanoid scream. In turn, Shadow Shido targeted Akechi relentlessly, as if the other Thieves weren’t even there. To his credit, Akechi attacked Shido with the same vigor – but Shido was fast, impossibly so, and for every spell Akechi cast, Shido paid him back threefold. It was all Morgana could do to keep Akechi’s health above zero.

The battle continued in this way, fought on three separate fronts: Shido, who largely attacked Akechi, though he would take the time to throw out wider-ranged spells as well; Akira, Makoto, and Morgana, who found themselves on the defensive, simply hoping to control the situation rather than making any progress; and...

Akechi, who seemed unreachable, who seemed completely deaf to Futaba or Akira or _anyone_ except for the shadow in front of him. The good news, such that it could be called "good", was that he seemed hyper-focused on causing Shido as much pain as possible, and that his new persona was astoundingly strong, and versatile, too. Every so often, Shido would shape-shift, trying to force a change of tactics, but no matter his form, Akechi seemed to know his weaknesses intuitively, and he had a spell to suit his needs.

At times, Shido would try to speak to them - taunts, usually - and when he did, Akira would command Makoto and Morgana to attack more directly; his words made Akechi even more reckless, as if he was forced into a rage, but without the chance for anyone to heal him - and so the sooner they shut Shido up, the better.

Akira lost track of time. How long had they been fighting? Out of the corners of his eyes, he would catch sight of Yusuke and Ryuji and Haru circling the perimeter, and he thought they were saying something to him, but whatever it was, he couldn't hear it. His mind was swimming with the din of the fight and fatigue from repeatedly summoning different persona...

And then Akechi landed a blow squarely on Shido's chest and the fight was simply... over.

Shido’s shadow fell to its knees, choking and spluttering as its grotesque muscles faded back into regular skin, and Akira allowed himself to lower his weapons. For a second, the whole room was utterly still...

Then Akechi was striding across the battlefield and up onto the stage, where he immediately drew his gun and pressed the barrel flush against Shido’s forehead.

“Akechi!” Makoto yelled, scrambling up onto the stage after him, “Stop. You can’t kill him.”

“I can,” Akechi said sharply. His hesitation, his desperation, both were gone, and neither his voice nor his aim wavered in the slightest. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t.”

“A dead man can’t face justice,” Makoto said.

Akechi scoffed. “He won’t face justice out there. Even your sister knows that, Niijima. His influence runs too deep.”

“Yeah, his influence _does_ run deep, you idiot!” Ann said, moving to stand at Makoto’s side. “He’s like, the most popular politicians in Japan. What do you think his fans are gonna do if he turns up dead, especially this close to the election?”

Akechi grit his teeth and said nothing.

“He’d become a martyr,” Yusuke commented. “In death, his positive traits would be magnified, and his corruption would be minimized, perhaps even forgotten.”

“Crow…” Morgana said, his voice echoing down from the rafters above them, where he was in the process of securing Shido's treasure, “You need to think. Is killing Shido really going to make up for everything he’s done to you? Everything he made you do?”

“Y-yes,” Akechi said, after a split second of hesitation. “He doesn’t deserve to live… after everything he’s done.”

When Akechi’s voice faltered, Akira approached him at last; carefully stepping into Akechi’s peripheral vision – he saw Akechi’s eyes dart toward him as he moved – he drew close and placed a hand delicately on Akechi’s shoulder.

“After everything he’s done,” Akira repeated, “To have a change of heart and suddenly become saddled with so much guilt… what do you think it would be like? To live with the guilt of everything you’ve done?” He could feel Akechi's whole body shaking, and while he refused to lower his arm, Akira could sense his resolve crumbling. “…You can end this,” he said.

There was a long moment where Akira couldn't breathe, waiting to see if his words had left an impression - and then Akechi snarled, pulling back and clocking Shido across the face with his gun before he turned on his heel, wrenching Akira's hand off of his shoulder, and retreating several steps away. “Just take his treasure and let’s get out of here. Before I have a chance to regret this…” he muttered, holstering his gun in the process.

“We’ve got it here, Joker!” Ryuji called out as he dashed down a set of stairs at the back end of the auditorium, Morgana at his side, carefully balancing the giant golden ship wheel on his back.

The Palace was eerily silent now that its master was beaten; other than the sounds of the Thieves trying to catch their breath and their footsteps as they walked briskly across the shiny wooden floor, there was nothing to hear, which is why Akira very nearly jumped when Akechi stumbled and dropped to a knee, clapping a hand to his forehead and wincing. Akira lurched forward to help him, but Akechi held his arm out, keeping Akira at length.

“It’s nothing,” He managed to say, “I just… go on, I’ll only be a minute -- nnh…!” He made a strangled noise and clutched at his chest.

There was light radiating out from beneath Akechi's hand now - partly white, but also somehow shining black, like the reflection on a piece of onyx. The beams merged together a few feet from Akechi's torso, becoming a swirling, blindingly bright yin-yang. Akira blinked against the flash and when he opened his eyes again, the light had disappeared.

Well, disappeared was the wrong word - more like they had given way to something else. It had a lanky, smoky body that seemed largely humanoid, but the way it rippled and shimmered in the air, like smoke, made its proper dimensions impossible to determine. The strangest thing about was probably that it lacked a neck; instead, its head was floating just above its shoulders, bobbing and rotating in midair. Or maybe the strangest thing was the head itself, which had two distinct faces – one pale and rounded, the other dark and sharp, with a pair of curling horns protruding from its head.

“What?" Morgana exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at the creature, "Did his persona transform?”

“Not just transformed, they fused!” Futaba corrected.

Akechi was staring, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, at his new persona, whose gaze shifted every so often as one face would rotate away and let the other look forward. It started to move - Akechi flinched - but all it did was draw its sword, extending its arm and bringing the flat edge of the blade to rest just over Akechi’s shoulder.

"The hardest binds to shed are those forged by your own hand," the persona said - or at least, it seemed to; Akira couldn't see a mouth on either of its faces. "To let go of such a burden..." it continued, in a voice so deep it reverberated in Akira's rib cage, "do you not feel the weight lifted from your soul?"

Akechi made a choked noise and tried to look away, but the persona moved its sword again, this time landing below Akechi's chin. It lifted the blade just slightly and forced Akechi to look it in the eye.

"Face forward, now, for your own sake," one face said, which quickly flipped around so that the second face could continue, "Look back, in time, so you may not forget what it took to arrive here."

With that, the persona blinked out of existence, and Akechi looked as though he had been released from a vice grip. Unsteadily, he rose to his feet and shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was then that he noticed he had attracted the attention of everyone else.

“Ah… apologies,” he managed to say, his cheeks flushed. “We should – the Palace will collapse soon, won’t it? We should go…”

“What’s their name?” Akira asked. Akechi stared at him blankly. “Your persona.” He clarified.

“Oh… Janus,” Akechi said. Then he blinked a few times in quick succession, his hand fluttering to his forehead. He wobbled in place, and this time Akira was able to catch him before he fell, taking his by the shoulder and allowing him to lean against Akira for leverage. “Akira, I..." Akechi started to say, "I feel strange.”

“It's fine," Akira said at once, "we're done here. We can go."

 

* * *

 

After returning to reality, the Thieves managed to drag Akechi back to Leblanc and put him to rest on Akira's futon with only a small amount of trouble. Exhausted from their battle and nervous about the outcome, they then parted ways - leaving Akira to tend to Akechi alone. After he collapsed on the bed, Akechi had spent the next several hours asleep - Akira recalled the feeling after he first summoned Arsene, and imagined Akechi was feeling the same - it wasn't until the sun had set that Akechi finally stirred.

He sat up slowly, warily, trying to determine where he was. Akira, who had been lounging on his sofa, sat up, drawing Akechi's attention, and his expression seemed to soften a bit.

"Ah... Akira-kun," He said, with a voice like sandpaper. "How long...?"

"A few hours," Akira replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm... all right," Akechi said slowly, as if he was trying to confirm that he was in fact all right; he ran his hands over his arms and shifted his legs, checking for injuries and finding none. He slid his legs over the edge of the bed and pulled himself to his feet. "Have you heard anything? From Shido..." he asked, and Akira shook his head. A wry smile came to Akechi's face. "I suppose it's too early to hope for any news. Forgive me, I'm... anxious."

"It's fine," Akira said, getting to his feet and moving to meet Akechi, who had found his attache case sitting at the foot of Akira's bed, and looked as though he was preparing to leave. Akira shifted in place, and then reached out to tap Akechi on the shoulder. “Stay the night?” he asked.

He knew the answer before Akechi even spoke from the way the corners of his lips turned down just slightly, how his eyes flicked away for a split second. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, “But I… there are things I need to take care of.”

Akira couldn’t trust his voice not to crack, so he kept his mouth closed, only managing to give Akechi the barest hint of a nod. It wasn’t reassuring, but he thought that giving false reassurances would be worse, somehow – like he was lying right to Akechi’s face.

And though he was fully ready to leave things there, to see Akechi off into the fading afternoon without another word, Akechi paused in Leblanc’s doorframe and looked back at Akira.

“I'll come back," he said, "So... will you be patient with me?”

Unwittingly, a tiny smile came Akira’s face. “Of course,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Janus: a Roman god presiding over beginnings, gates, transitions, time, duality, doorways, passages, and endings. Often depicted as two-faced, as he looks to the future and to the past.


	11. Epilogue: December

Akira didn’t hear from Akechi for over three weeks.

It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part, either; every other day he would text Akechi in some capacity: to say good morning, sometimes, or to keep him updated about the Thieves – like that Sae was heading up Shido’s criminal investigation – or even about mundane things, like finals and coffee and the weather...

He never got a response. He wasn’t even sure Akechi had seen his messages. Yet if he tried to set his phone aside for even a day, his chest would start to ache and he would end up writing something short and stupid that embarrassed him even further, and made him wonder if he wasn’t just driving Akechi away with his incessant contact.

It wasn’t until well into December that Akira’s phone buzzed and he saw Akechi's name.

 **> >Goro:** I don’t suppose you’re awake, are you?

Akira unlocked his phone, blinking against the bright screen. It was late, certainly after midnight and probably later, but Akira had felt restless all evening. While Morgana drifted off to sleep on the pillow beside him, Akira had stared at the ceiling and waited – maybe for this moment, he thought, with a wry smirk. He quickly typed out a reply,

 **> >Akira:** I’m awake. Can’t sleep?

 **> >Goro:** Something like that.  
**> >Goro: **I know it’s an inconvenience at this hour, but I’d like to see you. If I may.

 **> >Akira:** I want to see you, too. Come over.

 **> >Goro:** I’m… actually already here.  
**> >Goro: **At Leblanc, that is.

Taking care not to disturb Morgana, Akira scrambled to his feet and stumbled blindly across the room, down the stairs. He could see the faint outline of someone standing just outside the door. He fumbled with the lock and tugged the door open with impatient force.

Outside, the sky was wrapped in slate grey clouds, dark and foreboding, but Akechi was there, illuminated only by the lantern beside Leblanc's door. Akira watched as little flurries danced down through the air, tiny snowflakes coming to rest in Akechi’s hair, on his shoulders, melting away against his heavy coat.

Akechi met Akira's eyes and gave him a small, shy smile. “I don’t want to be rude,” he said, his voice soft and muffled in the cool winter air, “but… it’s quite cold, Akira-kun.”

Akira gave a start and stepped to the side, holding the door open for Akechi. “C-come in. I’m sorry; come in,” he said. Akechi nodded politely and took his offer. Akira closed the door behind him, and then they were standing quietly in the dark. Akira flipped the door's lock closed again. “It's good to see you,” he added, just for the sake of having something to say.

“I’m sorry I disappeared for so long,” Akechi said, lowering his head. “I was thankful for your texts. I know I should have said something…”

Akira waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He motioned for Akechi to follow him into Leblanc. “Do you want…” Akira started to say, but he quickly trailed off. His tired brain was operating on auto-pilot, forgetting the circumstances.

“Were you about to offer me coffee at two in the morning?” Akechi laughed, and the sound lit a match in Akira’s chest.

“…maybe,” Akira replied. He had to bite his cheek to keep from breaking out into a dumb smile.

“May we sit?” Akechi asked. “I’ve been on my feet for a while.”

“’A while’?” Akira repeated, leading the way through the dark café towards one of the booth seats. “At this hour?”

“As I said, I couldn’t sleep,” was all the explanation Akechi was willing to give.

They settled down, side-by-side, close enough that their knees bumped together, and Akira felt suddenly nostalgic for the midsummer nights they had spent together, back before everything went to hell. How long had it been? Barely a few months, but it couldn’t have seemed farther away in Akira’s memory.

“So, what have you been up to?” Akira asked.

Akechi took a deep breath. “Primarily isolating myself from my previous work associates," he said. "Changing phone numbers, re-routing my mail to a P.O. box... I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment, as well." He gave a long, tired sigh. "...thankfully, I find the media seems to have forgotten about me,” he said. “I suppose they’re too concerned with Shido’s confession to care about me any longer.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Akira asked.

Akechi shook his head. “No, not particularly. To be honest, I’m grateful for the respite.”

Akira smiled, feeling around for Akechi's hand; the detective flinched at the unexpected contact but allowed Akira to twine their fingers together, Akira's thumb rubbing small, soothing circles against the back of Akechi's hand.

“And what about you?" Akechi asked, "Have you all continued to work as Phantom Thieves?”

“Well," Akira began, "We've made a few trips into the Meta-verse here and there. But... it's mostly been for Morgana's sake." Akira trailed off, and Akechi didn't press him for details; he was thankful that even after so much time, Akechi still seemed to recognize his mannerisms. He lightened his tone and added, "Besides… we changed Sae’s heart without ever touching her shadow. Maybe Shibuya doesn’t need the Phantom Thieves anymore.”

Akechi hummed thoughtfully. “Speaking of Shibuya…" he said slowly, "you’ll be leaving soon, won’t you? To go home.”

“Soon…” Akira repeated, “Sort of. Around four months, I guess.”

“You couldn’t stay here forever, I suppose,” Akechi said. “It would be cruel to uproot you from your home permanently.”

Akira laughed dryly. “Not much waiting for me back there, though.”

He had hoped Akechi would take the joke, but if anything, his companion seemed to grow more solemn. Akira could feel him fidgeting restlessly.

“Would you come back?” Akechi asked.

Akira blinked. “Of course I would.”

“To see your friends?”

“And you.”

Akechi gave a short, self-depreciating laugh. “I’m not a friend, then?” he asked.

“I don’t make a habit of kissing people I’m just friends with, Goro,” Akira replied, taking his free hand to Akechi's cheek and brushing aside a loose tuft of his hair. This, at last, earned Akira the blush he was hoping for; not that he could see it in the low light, but he could feel it in the way Akechi's breath caught, the way he looked to the side, a bit embarrassed, and the way he nonetheless leaned, in just slightly, to meet Akira's touch.

In the quiet pause that followed, a thought came to Akira. “Hey...” he said, and Akechi looked up. “Does this have anything to do with why you disappeared for three weeks...?"

Akechi's expression fell, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on Akira's hand. "I... thought it would be best if I accustomed myself to your absence." He said slowly.

"What?" Akira asked, before he could stop himself. "Why?"

"For when you leave," Akechi replied. "...you are going to leave. Aren't you?"

"It - it's not like that," Akira stammered. His heart was starting to hammer and catch in his throat, and his tongue felt like an obstacle in his mouth, something he had to fight around in order to speak. "I have to go home," he said, "But I - I don't want that to be the end of things." He felt a sudden wave of nausea, and added, "Unless that's what you want?"

Akechi shook his head frantically, and a little part of Akira's anxiety lifted. He tried to smooth his voice over, and said, "So it's okay. It's not like I wouldn't be able to visit."

“You would, but..." Akechi trailed off. "I suppose I’m quite selfish,” He said at last, and laughed at himself. “I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

"You don't have to - you won't," Akira said immediately. He slipped his hand away from Akechi's hold so he could cup his face with both hands. "I like you. I don't want to share you, either. And... just because I have to leave for a while doesn't mean I want this to end." Akechi squeezed his eyes shut and tentatively brought his hands to Akira's shoulders to steady himself. “Goro,” Akira murmured, rubbing a thumb across Akechi's cheek, catching a tear and wiping it away, “I’m telling the truth. I promise. So... be honest with me?”

“Then, honestly... I don't want you to leave,” Akechi admitted. Akira could feel his shoulders start to shake, his hands curling into trembling fists, clutching at Akira's shirt. Akira brushed away another tear, and Akechi let go of Akira's shoulders to wrap his arms around his back and pull their bodies close, almost painfully so. Akira responded in kind, pulling Akechi into an awkward embrace, their legs dangling partly off of the booth seat. “Don't - don’t leave me, please,” Akechi's voice dropped to a whisper, and when Akira pressed his lips against his neck, he began to cry in earnest.

"I won't," Akira promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally here!! can you even believe it?
> 
> More than anything else, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who read and enjoyed my fic. ^_^ Your support has been incredible and I couldn't be happier to finish up this story. <3 So thank you, everyone!


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